


Shades of Moonlight

by BlueEyedArcher



Series: Teratophilia (Monster x OC) [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Anal Sex, Biting, Blood and Violence, Bondage, Cannibalism, Claiming, Collars, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Fae & Fairies, Faery x Human, Handcuffs, Imprisonment, M/M, Magic, Marking, Master/Pet, Muzzles, Past Abuse, Past Torture, Public Humiliation, Rough Sex, Submission, Teratophilia, Torture, Unseelie Court, Voyeurism, Writing request, monster x human
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-03-27 08:57:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13877532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueEyedArcher/pseuds/BlueEyedArcher
Summary: Kanarian Fane spends many days out stalking the wilds in search of prey to bring back to feed his growing village. Prey is growing less common as the colder weather approaches and the village is becoming so large the meat stores aren't enough anymore, forcing the hunter to go beyond his usual territory. This leads him to enter the territory of another more lethal species. The realm of the Unseelie King. Once he crossed the boundary lines, he was captive in the King's net. Brought before His Majesty, Kanarian is to be punished for trespassing and entering the King's lands armed. Fate is twisted and cruel as it sentences him to servitude at the feet of the King and his undying demands. A life that Kanarian fears will be rather short as the King's hatred for his people is unleashed.





	1. Trespasser

**Author's Note:**

> This was a Teratophilia writing request from one of my followers and will be done in multiple parts due to it's immense length. Please, if you enjoy it, comment below. Enjoy!

_ “There is a place, deep in these forests where the realm of man and the Unseelie court meet. Here dangers lie and trespassers are never seen again.” _

  
  
  
  


That old warning rose in the back of the young man’s mind, a growl from the past and a reminder from one of his village elders to be wary of the forest when he hunts. He knew these dangers were present just as there were many others he had to be aware of. He made certain to avoid stumbling across the boundary lines, returning home from hunts before night fell and never straying from the paths he knows best. Kanarian spent his entire life raised in these woods, a protected land of wilderness in the far reaches of the modern world. Where their cultist village could thrive under the teachings of Lady Seraphiel, the Clan Mother of the three sisters. The three sisters were the three villages that rose up around this dark religion, worshiping cannibalistic deities. Constantly under the threat of demons being sent to claim those who stray from the path.

 

Kanarian knew this well but this was not the life he had chosen. In fact, he had no choice whatsoever. The elders of their village once lived in modern society but became reclusive and protective of their religion. Seeing no other option when their ways were being impinged upon by the authorities, they moved out to the wild lands with special permission, pulling strings with their vile influences to get their way. There was no evidence of a map or roads leading to their village, no possible way for them to be accidentally discovered by outsiders. They only ventured out during times of need, in search of mates to further the generations or to seek out sacrifices. His mother was one of these unwary people. Brought back to the village, nine months pregnant and expected to partake of the union sacrifice, the woman refused. Her refusal was accepted and she was hunted down to become the next sacrifice. Fleeing into the woods to save herself and her unborn child. She put up a valiant effort only to die giving birth in the nest of an elder tree’s roots. 

 

A healthy baby boy was born and not long after her passing, the Clan Mother discovered her body and the child. She received a vision from the holy goddess involving the raven haired child. Taking him into her arms, she was to raise him as her own to follow their ways and fulfill a greater purpose. Twenty years later, he was the master hunter for their people, the only reason he was kept so long despite his insolence and refusals to submit to their ways. Rejecting the flesh of their sacrifices and punished repeatedly. His body was littered in the badges of his rebellion against his mother’s commands. His eyelids held the scars of stitches that once blinded him into submission and his body carved up like a lamb at slaughter. The marks were professional and appeared to be delivered by skillful hands. Seraphiel, once long ago, was raised under the guidance of her father, a dedicated mortician. She wielded a blade like no other, well, asides from Kanarian who’s own skills were honed through the last sixteen years of his life, hunting and sustaining their people with meat for the unforgiving northern winters.

 

He released a heavy sigh, fixing the bow on his shoulders and mindful not to catch his long black hair amidst the strings. He kept it neatly braided down the center of his back so as not to catch on branches when chasing down prey. His quiver was strapped to the side of his weapon, knocking an arrow, his eyes fixed on the beast before him. His deep blue eyes were slowly being overcome with the blessing of their Goddess. This came in the form of a silver hue in the irises. His pupil was ringed with this silver coloring, reflecting the shreds of light and making them glow like cat’s eyes. The blue outer ring was the last hints of his humanity. Each day he watched as it slowly overtaken. With each bite of human flesh, he lost a bit of blue. Becoming like the rest of his village. All sharing the same sets of reflective silver eyes. Cold and dull. Sharpened with hardships and filled with an insatiable hunger. 

 

He took a long slow breath, drawing back his strings, fingers hooking them carefully. His back flexed with the movement, musculature rippling beneath the thin fabric of his olive green tunic. Muscles taut as he trailed the deer moving through the brush, heading west towards the thicker portions of the forest. Finding prey was becoming harder and harder lately. Their meat stores were becoming scarce with last spring’s blessings. There were four new families introduced into the village and five children had been born over the expanse of two months. This meant more mouths to feed, as if all the pregnant women weren’t bad enough with their increased appetites. 

 

He released his breath and slowly guided the strings back to their normal position. Leaving the arrow in place, ready to fire at any moment, he began to follow the deer before it moved out of view. He couldn’t allow this one to get away from him. Rushing through the thicket, he moved swiftly and quietly, mindful of his footfalls and the branches brushing past him. His body held all the grace and fluidity of a predator. He gritted his teeth, flashing the sharp toothed snarl of frustration as he lost sight of the buck. Crouching low, he inspected the mossy floor, following the scuffs of decaying foliage flipped over, the slight impression of a hoof in the mud and the light nibble marks on leaves as it passed. 

 

He moved low, ducking through the thicket and brush to push on further, finding the small trails it left behind in the bending branches and parted grassy sprouts. His eyes roaming all around him as he pushed further in. He cursed himself as the trail went cold. Searching a clearing he came to for any sign of where it went but there was nothing in the area for yards. As if it had simply vanished from sight. He sighed, returning his arrow to the quiver and his bow to his back, blue-silver eyes turning up towards the sky to check the status of the sun. He felt his heart thud heavily when the dense canopy of trees prevented him from viewing the sky. He turned around, searching for the trail he had followed, not realizing just how far he had strayed. 

 

“No. no no no. Goddess forgive me.” He murmured, searching the earth for clues of his path but the ground felt uneasy.  A dizziness shadowed over his thoughts and the feeling of eyes rested upon him. He stumbled back when shadows shifted and darkness started setting in on his surroundings. The trees were unusually dark in color and the lush greenery that thrived throughout the land had become dark and dying in appearance. The forest floor was littered with decaying greenery and damp mossy earth. Large roots pressed deep into the muddy terrain, tripping him up wherever he went. A shifting of branches caught his attention, his gaze darting towards a copse of trees, no more than prickly saplings covered in long thorns and soft white blossoms. They carried an acrid stench when he neared too closely, warding him away from them. 

 

His hand moved to grasp at the hunting knife on his belt, finding an unusual grip in its place. He looked down and found a piece of carved wood replacing it. A cold breeze licked at the back of his neck like the first whimpers of autumn tugging at summer’s end. He held his breath, going stone still as the hairs on the back of his neck and arms stood on end. A light brush against his bow and the weight faded away. He closed his eyes, his lungs burning with the need for oxygen. When he opened them again, he was staring down the end of his arrow, a figure robed entirely in black was standing before him. Two more emerged from the thorny thicket and surrounded him, one of which was holding his hunting knife. The handle made of the bone from a buck’s antler, carved meticulously with the grinning muzzle of a wolf. 

 

He bared his teeth in warning, flashing the sharp out of habit. He wondered if maybe he had wandered into the territory of one of the sister villages. Without his completely silver eyes, it wouldn’t be uncommon to be mistaken for prey by others. Baring his teeth was a way of proving that they served under the guidance of the Clan Mother. Though with these people, they didn’t even respond to the display. A sharp prod to his back was all he was given in warning. A flash of white came, a sharp prick to his neck and the brushing of air past his skin. He feared that once had just taken a blade to his throat, causing his hands to clutch at his neck to staunch any blood flow but he never got to see of his hand came away wet as darkness rose over his vision, swirling around like a swarm of insects, distant humming echoing in his mind before all the strength faded from his body. The world toppled over into shadows.

  
  


  
  


 

 

Kanarian was tormented by shadows stretching across his subconscious mind. His body writhing in its sleep as whatever drug the strangers used on him kept him under. Amidst the darkest recesses, a warm touch reached through, soft shreds of moonlight and a sweet fragrance drifting around him. He felt the pull of dizziness as his stomach flip flopped and curled up on him. His body sprawled out across smooth white stone floors. A small weight rested around his wrists, keeping them bound together. A frail looking silver chain linked them to the floor below. He blinked a few times to clear the blurriness of his vision, focusing on the strange character runes in the ground where the chain met floor as if it were vines rising up out of the earth yet no point of connection. 

 

He groaned, tilting his head to the side as silver-blue orbs shifted to gaze around the room. Following the white stonework and realizing that the runes near the chain encircled him or at least appeared to from as much as he could spot without moving too much. From there he raised his head, giving a short cough with his dry raspy throat. Finding the white stonework ceased and rising up from the ground appeared to be a throne made of silver birch trees. They twisted in unnatural ways to create a cradle in which a rather large form rested within. Body cloaked in intricate black armor that appeared to be thin and light with an elegant silver crown placed atop the long silky white locks cascading down over his shoulders. With skin as pale as the trees he rested upon but holding a strange glow as if moonlight emanated from within. From what little skin he could spot, inky veins spread across the flesh, tainting it and yet igniting a truly magnificent beauty upon it at the same time. It felt as if he were gazing upon a painting of a deity. Or maybe an actually god itself. 

 

That thought made Kanarian’s stomach twist up into unbearable knots. He shifted on the floor, attempting to move his knees beneath him but froze in place. A presence at his back, a shiver racing down his spine as he held his breath, a sharp object pressed against his throat. His gaze darted from the man upon the strange throne towards the object at his throat, catching a glint of a familiar carved handle before his eyes returned to the white haired man before him. His expression was cold, a stoic facade holding very little interest in the situation but the eyes. Those eyes held a smile of satisfaction within, an unsettling gaze of golden irises against a black backdrop. Kanarian’s fears continued as his thoughts of gods was vanquished and his growing unease turned towards thoughts of demons. His heart was hammering loudly within his chest as a sickly pallor overcame his complexion. 

 

That gaze pierced through him with the continued silence before the man on the throne finally decided to greet his ‘guest’. A slow gesture of a nod and the blade at Kanarian’s throat left, as the same darkly robed form glided across the stone floor towards the throne. Kneeling down before the golden eyed man, they lowered their head and raised the knife in offering. The man took the carved bone handle, taking the time to admire the craftsmanship, at least that’s what Kanarian assumed as golden hues trailed over the wolf carving on the pommel. Those golden eyes moved to rest upon Kanarian with a sinking weight bearing down upon him. The man’s lips parted to speak, a smooth accent rolled out, foreign to Kanarian’s ears and unlike anything he’s ever heard before but the words were in crystal clear english. “State your name trespasser.” 

 

Kanarian fell short on words, stumbling to find the information through all of his racing thoughts. He lowered his gaze to the floor as he spoke, a form of automatic submission branded into his body language by his own mother. At the slightest sound of a firm authoritative tone, he dropped into the posture on reflex, shoulders hunched as he tried to make himself appear smaller. “Ka-Kanarian sir.” He stuttered. “Kanarian Fane.”

 

There was a pause as the man upon the throne considered this. “Kanarian Fane, you have trespassed upon lands far beyond your understanding. Armed no less.” He tested the young raven haired man, permitting silence to follow. Many a being knelt in Kanarian’s place, given a moment’s silence they assume it is permission to barter their lives and freedom. Yet Kanarian remained silent, awaiting the command to state his defense. The man was intrigued by this but dared not show an ounce of interest in the boy other then in his punishment. “Why have you come here?”

 

The cannibal let a few heart beats rock within his chest before speaking up in a clear voice, his gaze remaining low and respectful. Fearing the outcome should he further upset this being before him. “I was hunting sir. I followed a buck through the woods and lost touch with the trails of my home. As soon as I realized my mistake, I attempted to return but became lost in the process.”

 

“Men may enter our lands but they may never leave unless by the will of the King. Without my will, you shall remain trapped here as long as I see fit.” The man spoke firmly, enforcing the fact Kanarian’s fate rested upon this man’s decisions. He gave a slow nod of affirmation, pressing himself closer to the floor as if to grovel for forgiveness. His hands pressed outward across the cold stone, extended in a show of peace and compliance. 

 

“Raise your head little one.” The demanding affirmative tone came, causing Kanarian to snap upright, his body jolting when he realized the King was standing directly in front of him. He never once heard him move. With Kanarian resting on his knees, the King placed the flat of the blade under the cannibal’s chin to raise his head higher so their eyes met. Taking in the strange conflict in the trespasser’s eyes as silver and blue fought over territory. It was a far too familiar sight for the King. One that sparked a fire behind those golden orbs. “My guards informed me that you bared your fangs at them when they apprehended you.” Kanarian swallowed thickly as a bead of sweat trickled down the back of his neck. His stomach continued its uneasy rolling, making him feel on the verge of sickness. “Show me.”

 

Kanarian’s lips curled back into a predatory snarl, exposing a mouth full of wolfish teeth. Filed sharp and prepared to tear away at flesh at a moment’s notice. Though there was no malice in Kanarian’s posture. His body was tense and uncertain. With every heart pounding second, he felt one step closer to losing what little composure he had entirely. “You worship the goddess that feeds from the flesh.” The King deduced. “You carry her blessing in your eyes.” The blade tilted and trailed gently down Kanarian’s throat, grazing across his adam’s apple in tantalizingly slow motions. The golden eyes boring into Kanarian, beating him further down into submission with that dark gaze. He swallowed thickly, his breath caught in his throat, holding in place as long as he possibly could. The golden hues shifted to inspect the pommel of the knife once more, long slender fingers rubbed over the markings of the wolf in deliberation. 

 

The King turned back towards the throne, tucking the knife back into the sheathe extracted from Kanarian’s belt upon captivity. He sat down with all the grace and pride of a feline. Words filled the room, foreign and unheard of, passing between the King and the cloaked figure beside him. The figure bowed once more and moved towards Kanarian, stopping long enough to extract the chain from the runes in the floor. The delicate looking links were strong and resilient as he was tugged up to his feet. “From this day forth, I will carry out your punishment. You will serve as my pet, as my Faolan. Never again will you return to the realm of man, little wolf.”

 

With another curt tug by the cloaked form, Kanarian was jerked out of the circle of runes in the stonework. His head hung as the weight of these words settled upon his shoulders. A slow nod was all the affirmation he gave as he was led out of the throne room. His legs felt weak beneath him and the urge to be sick was overwhelming. Dizziness swirled in the back of his mind as if his own thoughts were moving far too quickly to keep up. He stumbled over his own two feet as he was jerked forward once more. By no means was this figure careful in his handling. Never once did Kanarian see the face beneath the darkened shroud. There was a fabric layer over the exposed face piece, creating a screen between the figure within and those outside. 

 

The halls were lined with the same silvery birch wood with white stone floors. Large wooden archways provided thresholds between rooms with intricate runes carved into the wood. When they neared one of the archways, the runes glowed with a soft blue light. A veil like glamour faded before them, permitting them access within. Yet another aspect making it harder for the cannibal to keep up. Once inside, the veil rose back up to protect what was within. Within was a large stone bathing room with water pooling into it from a small brook like waterway. It was crystal clear and at the bottom was a layer of smoothed over pebbles, like thousands of tiny pearls spread across. He was stripped of his clothing, his tunic and trousers being ripped from his person with a small blade breaking the seams along the way and plucking the hair tie from his braid, releasing the neatly captured locks to fall over his shoulders and into his face. 

 

Once reduced to nudity, the cloaked form paused, looking over Kanarian’s bare form and its physical state. He wasn’t skinny in a sickly way. In fact his body was powerful and muscular but still slender enough. He was built for speed and flexibility, much like the wolves he resembled. His skin was crisscrossed with scars. On the front; his chest, arms and legs, he had incision marks that were done by skilled hands and an incredibly sharp and fine blade. His back was another story, littered across his spine, shoulders and lower back was the bite of a whip. Where it ripped at and tore away at damaged flesh. The scars were a mixture of old and fading, thick and calloused, and newer red streaks that had been present from a week or so prior. The skin was still raw but his body was covered so thickly in scar tissue that even the whips had trouble breaking through it all to inflict new punishments.

 

These were the lessons carved into flesh from the Clan Mother Seraphiel. Beneath the guidance of their gods, she refused to allow her son to stray from the path and forsake them to the demons of the outside world. Many of their people would have been sacrificed long before these types of punishments would be carried out. They would be made an example of but the village couldn’t afford to lose their most prominent hunter. The people hadn’t the luxury of sending so much time in the forest but Kanarian did. He had no official duties to fulfill, no children to raise and no teaching to be done. His sole purpose was bringing back meat to fill in the gaps between their supply of human flesh. This also meant that the village wasn’t impacted during the times he spent in recovery from his injuries. His mother would tend to the wounds lovingly, sitting by his bed for many hours and through much of the night, singing soft lullabies and holding him close. As much as he was afraid of her, she was all he had in the world. Shunned by the rest of his village, he was alone. Nobody dared to near him for fear that he bared upon him a curse of misfortune. 

 

After the momentary pause, the figure moved behind Kanarian and pushed him towards the edge of the pool. The chain that guided him was drawn in before him by an unknown force and he was pulled down the few shallow steps within. He thought it was cease it’s tug but it only increased, forcing him deeper, into the center where the water went above his head. He struggled against the chain, stirring up frantic splashes as he gasped, taking in a breath of air before he was forced completely under. The chain drew him down just enough to remain submerged as the chill of the water surrounded him. The cold temperature prickled across his skin as the raven locks floated around him like a dark shadow lurking within the water. 

 

His lungs burned as the seconds ticked by slowly, his heart thundering in his chest, incredibly loud in his ears as he struggled against the chain. He was on the verge of passing out when the chain released him and he floated to the surface, breaking through with a sudden intake of breath. His legs kicked furiously to return to the shallow steps, crawling away from the edge until he was on flat solid land. Curled up on the edge, he was wracked with fitful shivers, his raven locks hanging down in thick curtains, plastered across his tanned and toned shoulders. 

 

The cloaked figure appeared disinterested in the display, dropping a towel over Kanarian’s head to dry off with. He clutched at the fabric with his bound wrists, drying off the best he could. Wringing his long hair out and using the towel to wrap up in, his head tilted down as his teeth chattered. His skin felt hard and icy with the colder temperature. The cloaked figure reached down and curled their fingers around the chain, drawing it up with a curt tug. It was the only warning that they wanted Kanarian on his feet once more. He tucked his legs underneath himself and pushed back up, bare feet padding across the colder stone flooring towards another threshold. The runes recognized the figure and released the glamour veil to permit access. 

 

They continued into what appeared to be a dressing room. There were large dark wood trunks with a series of markings on each. A wave of the figure’s hand and the markings glowed, with a soft click relinquishing what was within. Soft expensive fabrics of different colors shined in the soft pale light of the room as if the entire place was bathed in the rays of moonlight. The figure rummaged around until they came up with a thin white silk garment and a pale blue sash of the same fine expensive cloth. A jerk of the chain tugged Kanarian forward until he was in arms reach of the figure. The white garment was fixed around his hips with small delicate seeming threads that hooked closed, creating a skirt like appearance that stopped just above his knees. The blue sash was tied around his hips to keep the skirt from slipping down. It looked elegant for servant wear as it was tied in a complicated loop off to the side with the two ends lying over top of each other neatly and hanging down to about mid thigh. 

 

His shackles were swapped out for two sets of silver bangles that locked around his wrists. Unable to be slipped off. Another set was placed around his ankles, resting against the colder skin and sending another shiver through him. Kanarian’s long raven hair was brushed out and left to hang freely flowing over his shoulders. Something that bothered the hunter greatly but he made no sound in protest. He wrapped his arms around himself in an attempt to regain warmth, rubbing at them and breathing on his hands to bring back the feeling in them. Before long, he was being guided back the way they came, entering the throne room with the soft patter of his bare feet trailing behind the robed figure. 

 

His eyes rose around the room, taking in the sight of nearly a dozen more of the robed beings lined up behind the circle of runes with heads bowed before their king. Kanarian was moved to stand before the king, in the very center of the circle, his head dropping low in submission as he presented himself silently. The figure beside him retreated to join the line up. Silence extended for a few long agonizing minutes before the King finally spoke. “Faolan, come to me.” His words were cold and firm. It took Kanarian a moment of hesitation before he realized it was him that was being beckoned forward. He moved in careful strides to stand directly before the king before dropping down to kneel respectfully. “Raise your head Faolan and meet your Master’s gaze.” The words were soft but still a foreboding sound in Kanarian’s ears. He turned his attention up to those unnerving golden hues set into the black pits behind. Jewels across a canvas of ivory skin and living moonlight. 

 

The king’s hand reached out holding a silver collar with the same intricately carved runes as the other accessories, within the metal making a beautiful design. It was in two halves which were placed around his bared neck, linking together and sealing permanently. A design where only the King can remove it from his pet. A gentle touch of fingertips beneath his chin, raising his silvery gaze to meet the king’s golden orbs. They pierced through Kanarian, making him shrink back in his place. “Show me that smile.” The King purred in a low hum where only the two could hear. The hunter parted his lips to obey, baring his sharp teeth at the King. Satisfaction glinted in those golden eyes, burning like amber coals. A chain formed from the runes on the collar, created by magical essence and snaking down into the King’s open awaiting grasp. A silver ring curled around his finger, the soft blue glow of runes resonated until the chain rested across his palm. They faded out softly as the fingers curled around the delicate looking links. 

 

The king dismissed his court as they have served their purpose of witnessing the binding between a Master and his pet. The robed figure that tended to Kanarian remained lingering in the shadows. He brought a small cushion for the human to kneel on beside the throne as this would be his place for the rest of his life. His head bowed in submission and knees tucked beneath him. He rested his hands in his lap, curled into tense fists as he mourned his loss of freedom. The silence of the throne room stretched on unbearably so. He craved the sounds of the outside, of the birds and the wind through the trees. The room felt so cold and isolated. A soft sniffle sounded from him as he held back the onslaught of emotions balling up tightly in his throat. 

 

He was unaware that the King’s eyes had focused their attention upon him, reaching down to trail long slender fingers across the scars upon Kanarian’s back. The hunter tensed up and turned suddenly with teeth bared in a warning snarl before he suddenly shrank back to his pitiful position from earlier, trying to make himself appear smaller. “Faolan.” The words came firmly, a cold edge of displeasure towards the action, drawing the raven haired male to look up at his master. “Who do you think you are, to threaten  _ me _ with those fangs?” The tone was harsh as golden eyes narrowed upon the pet. 

 

Kanarian winced and drew back, moving to kneel directly in front of his master. His form pressing close to the floor in an attempt to grovel and beg for forgiveness. His long black hair tumbled out across the stone work in a messy fanning. The king remained displeased. With the tap of a single finger on the arm of his throne, a chain left each of the binding accessories and formed into the floor where the runes rested in the stone work. Forcing him to remain in that same position without any hope of rising back up. The cold stonework biting into his already chilled form, the ache of his body pressed into the same arching posture was uncomfortable and working its way up to painful with the passing minutes. 

 

“You have yet to learn your place. I shall demonstrate it for you.” There was silence that followed before the soft whispers of air trailed over Kanarian’s skin, alerting him that the King was standing beside him. “You serve the goddess of flesh. A Moon Mother that beseeched her children. Making beasts out of mortal men.” There was a light pressure against his back, a sharp sensation that was far too familiar to Kanarian. His body tensed up as the King continued to toy with his pet. “Your goddess had forsaken us. She carved the wings right out of my back and stole them from my people.”

 

The sharp prickling feeling swelled up with a hot wet droplet rolling down towards the dip of Kanarian’s spine. There was warm breath against his ear as the King spoke. “You are going to know what that feels like. You shall pay for the crimes of your goddess.” The sharp pain became white hot as his hunting knife was forced into the layers of scarred flesh. Dragging across his skin and prying out slivers running vertically on either side of his spine between his shoulder blades. Six inch swathes that were tossed aside to lie in a bloody glob on the floor. Red staining the previously pristine white stonework. Kanarian’s screams filled the hall, echoing off of the walls and assaulting his ears with its sound. Deep rumbling laughter rolled like thunder from the King’s chest as he cut out the second portion. Warm red streaks raced down Kanarian’s spine and seeped into the elegant silken garments, pooling on the floor around him. 

 

The King pressed his foot against the back of Kanarian’s head as he flicked the blade, splattering blood across the floor, grinding Kanarian’s face into the stonework until his lip was swollen and nose began bleeding. Tears fell, leaving trails down his cheeks as he whimpered beneath the man’s abuses. His fingers curled into tight fists within the bindings. He made no move to flee or even attempt to escape his bindings. He had been in this same position many times before. 

 

His only warning of the King’s absence was the weight leaving the back of his head, relieving the pressure from his face. Bruising began to form along the sides of his cheek from the force. He was left there, shivering in the cold until the blood congealed around him, staining his skin with a red tint. His knees were swollen and bruised, hips and spine aching on top of the deep gouges in his back. Some time had passed until the robed figure returned to collect him. Kanarian hadn’t realized when the chains released their hold but his body never moved once as if frozen in place. He was afraid to move as the worst of the pain has receded some but when the figure took his wrists and pulled him upright, a choked cry left his lips as the wounds became more agitated and began bleeding all over again. Crimson rivulets dripping down his hips into the fabric, making it heavier. 

 

After another trip to the pools, the water felt warmer this time, either that or Kanarian was just that cold. He was cleaned up and given a new set of garments. This time with a black skirt and another pale blue sash tied around his waist and fixed properly in place. His hair was brushed out and braided like before to keep it from falling over his wounds. He kept the tail of it draped down in front of his chest out of the way while his back was patched up to prevent from bleeding all over the garments again. He was escorted through the halls until they reached a massive threshold. The glamour here was stronger and meant to permit only a choice few for entry. 

 

He was guided inside to which he discovered was the King’s chambers. There was a large four poster bed with the same white birch wood creating a beautiful frame as if the boughs cradled the King in his sleep. The bed was very plush and soft, covered in a myriad of soft down pillows and it was massive. Big enough to hold three or four people at once without them touching each other in the process. There was a dark trunk and cabinetry with clothing and other odds and ends within. A desk with scrolls resting upon it and silvery vines growing down around them all from the ceiling. Amidst these vines were white flower blooming that glowed with a warm incandescent light. 

 

Kanarian was escorted towards an area on the other side of the room, opposite the King’s bed. There was an open space in the decor which was filled in with a larger cushion like the one he rested on in the throne room, big enough for him to lay his body out on with a single blanket to cover himself with. A small circle of runes rested on the floor beside which emitted a silvery chain linking up to his collar once he neared. The chain was long enough for him to move around and sit up if he needed to. About six or seven feet in length, it was light and pooled on the floor beside him as he laid down on his stomach. He turned his head to face the wall beside him, the soft flow of air was the only signal that he was alone once again.


	2. Ties That Bind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is going to be more then three parts. It might end up being a full story. I first assumed it would be three parts max but I have plenty more planned now.

Kanarian couldn’t tell the difference between day and night, just the extended passing of time. The cloaked figure would come and bring him a crystal bowl filled with water and a strange dark grain bread to eat. His appetite was fleeting and he spent much of his time curled beneath the thin blanket, sound asleep on his stomach. Moving enough to quench his thirst with a few sips from the bowl before returning to his deep sleep. The King would glide in and out of the room over time, tending to the duties of his position, gathering scrolls and changing garments for each occasion. He would stop between these brief visits to watch his new pet in silence. Golden eyes watching the way the scarred body writhed on the cushion. The blanket slipping off of his shoulders and down his back to his hips, exposing the layers of scar tissue and the bandages over the fresher wounds. 

 

Soft gasps and fearful whimpers would leave the young man’s lips as nightmares claimed him. It was a very common occurrence for Kanarian from years of being taught by his mother and told that his mistakes will bring about demons to come and claim him, dragging him away to the halls of the underworld where he will be consumed alive by the damned. Though, these fears were minor compared to the harsh punishments his mother inflicted upon him. His last left him blinded for an entire month as his mother sewed his eyelids shut, forcing him into a state of helplessness. He could do nothing without her help, right down to the simplest tasks such as feeding and dressing himself. She dictated his every move and kept him by her side, forcing him to consume the sacrifices for that month, in abundance. He had no other choice or else she would leave him to starve and threatened to abandon him in the woods for the demons to come for in the night. He had dreadful nightmares after that. Constantly paranoid of what she was doing to him, where she was taking him and what she was making him do. 

 

Since then, he barely spent any time in the village. He would lie and tell Seraphiel that he needed to replenish their supplies. That a month had been far too long to go without hunting and their storehouse for winter was depleted dangerously. The sad thing was, it ended up being true and the perfect excuse to avoid his mother. It gave her no ground to deny him this as there were no others she could spare to send out hunting aside from Kanarian.

 

The fears he faced now were memories twisted by the vile tone of his mother, taking the place of the King in the throne room. Committing the same atrocious act upon him as that man, only with more satisfaction and false love. Making sweet promises she will never keep and claiming it was for his benefit. That she did these terrible things because she wanted him to have a better life. She would kiss his cheek so softly, caress her fingers through his hair in fondness as she twisted the blade in his flesh. Terrified pained whimpers fell past his lips. In the nightmares, a bite bar muffles his sounds. In reality, his bruised face is pressed into the cushion beneath him, on the verge of being suffocating. The wounds of his back twitching and spasming painfully. Residual damage from so many wounds in one place. The strain was showing early on in his body despite his youthful appearance. 

 

The King approached his pet slowly, crouching beside him to inspect the changes on his features. The way they twisted up into a grimace. Teeth bared and jaw clenched in distress. He moved a careful hand to scoop up the edge of the blanket and gently draw it back up over Kanarian’s shoulders, mindful of the bandages on his back. He inflicted these wounds upon the man in retaliation for what his goddess had done to him but it seemed somebody else had already done more than enough damage on the young man. Now that his anger had soothed over, he felt the whispering shreds of guilt towards his actions. With the shake of a head, he dismissed them, reminding himself that weakness and sympathy wasn’t something he had the luxury of feeling towards outsiders. He knew well from past experiences how expressing those feelings could turn out. Much like the wounds on Kanarian’s back, the King had his own scars that ached with ancient memories. 

  
  


Kanarian was left on his own to heal for a period of three days. Continuously tended to by the cloaked figure, brought rather bland meals with each passing. Those that would be light on the stomach, many with a piece of bread on the side. Fruits would sometimes mingle together, in the early mornings and afternoons. By late evening there would be vegetables, boiled and garnished with mint or basil. A new fresh bowl of cold water would be set beside it. Before his meals, his bandages would be checked on and changed accordingly. Wounds tended to with salves and poultices. 

 

By the fourth day, he was brought his breakfast and tended to. Fresh bandages and garments adorned his form, another set of white silks, this time with a deep green sash around his waist. His chain was freed from the runes on the floor and he was allowed to walk around a bit to stretch his legs and loosen up, guided by the cloaked figure. He was led down the hall, opposite the throne room and towards another set of large birch tree arches. The glamour shimmered until it faded away and they entered the room. A massive polished wood table sat in the center, big enough for a banquet hall with odd looking chairs placed around it for seating. It took Kanarian a moment to realize they each were made from dozens of sun bleached antlers. At the head of the table sat the King in a larger version of the antler based chairs. They were wide and flat, unlike anything Kanarian had ever seen on the head of a beast before. From the ceiling were the same silvery vines that stretched down to hover above them with the warm glow of the flowers to light the room.

 

Kanarian’s gaze flitted around the room, taking in the sight of the empty chairs, wondering if there was a meeting going to take place soon or if he had just missed it. He felt the light tug of the chain, signalling for him to pay attention as the leash was handed over to the King. Beside the seat was the cushion from the throne room or at least another one like it already placed on the floor for him to kneel upon. The chain was curled between the King’s fingers in idle thought as he glanced towards his pet and the automatic natural form of submission. Kanarian’s head bowed and gaze resting on the stonework before him. It was tired and somewhat distant. The silver rings which shined so often appeared to be much dimmer than before. The blue pools curling around it looked darker and far deeper then known waters around his realm. It was unsettling for the King as a sneaking suspicion tugged at his thoughts. 

 

He didn’t get much time to ponder as a handful of beings in long flowing black robes entered the room. Their lithe frames had broad shoulders depicting that they wore the same traditional armor as their King beneath them. This signified them as soldiers of his realm. Those with slender forms draped in the same black fabric were scholars and confidants. The broad shouldered figures took their seats on one side while the slender forms sat on the opposite. Wisdom and knowledge resting on one side with brawn and experience settling in on the other. Beneath the hoods were some of the strongest of his people and most loyal, ranging from youth to those of their elder years, soon to join their brethren in ancient eternal halls. 

 

Silence stretched out before the King greeted his people in their native tongue. A response came with nods in unison. One of the largest of the figures gestured towards Kanarian, a questioning sound on his lips. The King held up the hand holding the hunter’s chain, the runes around the ring glowing with the faint blue light. Kanarian picked out only a single familiar word. ‘Faolan.’ The sound drew his attention up to the King who greeted him with a nod of approval at the obedient reaction. The collar glowed the faint blue hue as the chain shortened in length, pulling Kanarian closer so long slender fingers could caress the side of his bruised face. “Smile for me Faolan.” He commanded. 

 

Kanarian felt a dreadful urge jolt through him as he parted his lips in a weak and weary smile. He was fighting the feeling, a deep set hunger like no other. A craving no normal man should ever have. As the King’s hand pressed closer to his lips, pressing the pads of his fingers against them to permit a better view of Kanarian’s sharp teeth to the men surrounding. They leaned in towards the King to better see the anomaly among mankind. 

 

Without warning, Kanarian’s hunger peaked as his lips parted in a snarl. The ring of silver in his eyes regained it’s reflective tone as his sharp teeth sunk into the King’s hand. A low growl rumbled out, his eyes wild for the briefest of moments as blood rushed over his tongue. As quickly as it happened, Kanarian snapped out of it and released the King. His features twisted up in horror as he shrank back away from the King. “I- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...I’m sorry.” He stumbled quickly over his words, pulling back on the chain to resume his place on his cushion. His body already attempting to assume his groveling posture on the floor but the King didn’t allow it. Keeping a firm hold on the chain as he raised a curious brow at the younger male. His golden eyes driving right through Kanarian, still as cold and unsettling as ever. 

 

“Faolan.” The King repeated, pulling Kanarian back up to his feet so he stood before the table in full view. His eyes darted around the room like a trapped dog, seeking any source of retreat. He still had the blood of the King on his tongue, the flavor was satisfyingly sweet urging his craving to grow stronger. The group of men remained silent for a moment, staring the cannibal down then repeated Kanarian’s Unseelie name in acceptance. The King nodded, but didn’t release Kanarian just yet. “Clean this for me Faolan.” He directed, holding his bitten and bloody hand out for the male to lick at. The hand was slender with the same smooth pale skin as the rest of the King’s body, the inky black lines of veins spread across from beneath the fragile looking canvas of skin. The blood was just as black but far sweeter than any human or beast Kanarian had ever tasted. 

 

He held the King’s wrist gently and licked away at the dark smudges staining the snowy skin, clearing it away to witness the soft moonlight glow once more. Once the blood was cleaned away, Kanarian observed as the wound had already begun to heal itself as newer flesh filled in the gaps where his teeth had been but scarring remained as evidence of the hunter’s bite. It resembled more of a wolf’s then a man if anything. The King released the slack on the chain, permitting Kanarian to resume his kneeling posture beside the chair. The meeting continued for what seemed like hours, filled with spurts of bickering and abnormally long silences as tension built. The King spoke rarely throughout, only proposing ideas to his men and letting them fill in the gaps. He would then decide which route to go once deliberation was finished on one topic. 

 

Kanarian had started to fall asleep sitting up, his eyes slipping shut as his submissive posture slipped until his chin was tucked to his chest. At one point he had ended up leaning against the side of the King’s chair. Nobody spoke up to correct this since he was behaving rather well for a wild pet and he remained in one place without causing further mischief. The cannibal hadn’t realized when the meeting had finished and all the men filtered out of the room. He started to stir when he felt a hand rest carefully upon the top of his head, long slender fingers stroking through the raven locks already slipping free from the braided style. His eyes opened slowly at the sound of his name. The cold tone was soft as it called to him.  _ “Faolan. _ ” He could already feel the sharp amber eyes resting on him without the need to witness it. His head rose to meet the King’s gaze before slowly looking around the empty room. “We are going to the throne room.” He directed, giving the chain a curt tug to get Kanarian moving first so he was out of the way. 

 

Kanarian was still sleepy as he shuffled along beside his master, trailing only a little bit behind him. The length of the chain dictated his position and the King kept it very short to keep him close. The cannibal was greeted with the same cushion as before already resting beside the throne, proving his duplicate theory correct. He waited for his master to take a seat first before he assumed his position. The robed figure that tended to him since his arrival in this place appeared before the King with a strange object Kanarian had never seen before. It was silver, with soft fabric lining the exterior to prevent from rubbing or chaffing the skin where it rested. It looked like a cage with leather straps that fastened it in place. The King gestured for the figure to tend to it’s placement. “Faolan, be still.” The King commanded coldly, a firm tone of warning as the figure approached him. Pressing the circular cage like piece over his face and fastened the straps around his head until it was snug. 

 

“You are unruly in your current state. In the presence of others you will be muzzled until expressed otherwise.” The King explained. Kanarian reached up to touch this new accessory, disapproving of it entirely. “If you remove it or tamper with it’s placement, you will be severely punished. Am I understood Faolan?” Kanarian tensed, pleading blue-silver orbs turned towards the King but he nodded slowly in understanding. With the tightness of it against his face, it compressed the muscles and made it near impossible to speak. On top of that, it made his bruised cheek sting as the tender flesh was pinched awkwardly.

 

The King appeared to be satisfied with this response and continued on with the rest of the day’s duties. At first Kanarian assumed their was little that went on in the throne room. That the King spends his entire day sitting in a seat with no work being done. Through a few hours of observation, Kanarian realized there was an unspoken system. At certain times the robed figure would approach the King and murmur something to His Majesty. The King would listen and give his approval or disapproval on the information. Then the figure would vanish into the shadows. Not long after, another figure in greyish or dark brown robes would enter the throne room for an audience with the King. A few times someone with an emerald green robe would enter and deliver scrolls which the cloaked attendant would take, inspect then hand over to the King to read over. Then they would leave. 

 

Each of these instances was rather short and the time between was unbearably long. The King never spoke to him in between these audiences aside from saying his name and patting him on the head in idle motion. Sometime these momentary mentions would wake him from a light nap and catch him off guard. A few times the gesture of physical contact incited his craving and desire once more, making him wish to partake of another bite but the muzzle stopped him, leaving him to nudge the King’s arm with the cage attachment. The King appeared mildly amused by this as Kanarian would provide a pitiful defeated whine then resume his submissive posture.  

 

When the afternoon’s audiences appeared to reach their end, the cloaked figure approached once more, kneeling before His Majesty as the King offered words in parting. Dismissing his loyal attendant and waiting in silence until he was completely alone with Kanarian. “Faolan.” The King’s tone was soft yet firm, demanding the cannibal’s attention. The pair of silver-blue orbs turned up to face the King, awaiting his command and it came after a pause of silence. A gesture towards the circle of runes before the throne. “Kneel.” He commanded and Kanarian obeyed. The chain vanished as the King let it fall freely permitting the male to crawl towards the runes, stretching his stiff and sore legs as he did so until he was knelt before the King, his head down. The chain grew back from the collar with a gesture from the King, one in the front and one in the back, reaching down like vines into the stonework to secure the male in place. Forcing him to remain upright in his position. Another chain formed from his wrists, wrapping around behind his back, his arms were pulled behind him and bound together where the bangles were, the runes glowing a soft blue. The bangles around his ankles extended the chains to spread the cannibal’s legs apart, forming into the ground to hold him in place. 

 

Kanarian bared his teeth at the King in warning, frightened by what was happening and fearing the worst. The King leaned to the side in a relaxed position, head resting against his closed fist, elbow propping it up on the arm of the throne. His free hand orchestrating his pet’s position using the ring and subtle gestures, focusing his will into the commands. “Let’s see the extent in which others have tarnished you.” His voice was cold as he rose to his feet, stalking towards his pet in quick strides. A gentle tug and the silken garments parted, revealing Kanarian’s sun kissed tan flesh, His body rippling with unease as his muscles flexed and strained against the bindings. 

 

A low growl rumbled from the cannibal’s chest when the King neared, the flash of silver reflecting in Kanarian’s eyes briefly before the raven haired male lunged towards his master. The chains kept him from moving very much and the muzzle protected the king from another bite. He knew the reason behind Kanarian’s rabid and violent behavior. He was behind it actually, by excluding meat from his diet, he’s provoked the Goddess’s will and the craving for flesh renewed. Something the cannibal had been oppressing and attempting to suffocate or substitute with animal meat. The hunger remained, lying beneath the surface, lurking within those silver eyes like a predator ready to pounce at the first sign of weakness. 

 

A gesture with the ring and the chain in front of Kanarian pulled him forward towards the floor while the chain in the back lengthened to bend with his body. Keeping him in that position as the King placed a gentle hand across his back, mindful not to disturb the healing wounds, his fingers danced down along the layers of scar tissue, following the arch of his spine until it rested at his tailbone. He gave a curt hum, long slender fingers slipping down between Kanarian’s cheeks to pressed against the tight ring of puckered muscle. “My, my Faolan.” He mused. “It seems you’ve yet to be bred.” The cold pads of his fingers rubbed against the tight muscle, giving it a few small coaxing motions to relax it before another snarl rolled past Kanarian’s lips. His body stiffened and jerked forward in an attempt to flee the intruding touch. 

 

The King straightened up and moved around towards the front of the cannibal, the chains shifting their length to resume Kanarian’s upright posture. Those golden eyes pierced through the younger male, digging into him with a show of warning. The hard press of the King’s boot to his groin made him whimper. His eyes fluttered shut with a whine as the toe of the boot ground against his shaft, urging it to stand at attention. “Interesting.” The King’s lips pulled back into a satisfied smirk. “A bit of a masochist, aren’t you Faolan?” There was another sharp press, drawing a cry from Kanarian’s lips, his head tipped back as tears started to form in the corners of those silvery orbs. 

 

The King applied a little more pressure, making Kanarian choke back a struggling sound, his eyes closing as a tear streaks down his cheek. His manhood caught in the vice of pain and pleasure under the threat of being crushed. His jaw clenched tightly as more desperate whimpers sounded in his throat. The King’s lips curled up in amusement at the sounds from his pet. It gave him a nice preview for the future as his mind already began to formulate a plan. 

 

It was interrupted when the soft flap of robes from a fast moving figure, the footsteps were silent but the figure was not as a form in an emerald green cloak rushed into the throne room. Standing behind the circle, the figure appeared to overlook the scene playing out as they spoke in a foreign tongue. The native tongue of the King’s people. The tones was urgent as the figure relayed information to His Majesty. The pressure upon Kanarian’s manhood increased, overrunning any form of pleasure and inciting white hot pain that was buckling. His voice failed to reached the air before the King released him from his torment, stepping away from the circle and heading towards the hall in which Kanarian and the King had come from after the meeting. The emerald figure rose to his feet and followed behind him, continuing his exchange with the King. 

 

The bindings released Kanarian, leaving him to slump over onto the floor, curled up on his side as his hands covered himself protectively. Cupping over the bruising member gingerly as he whimpered, a small trail of tears forming puddles on the floor. He didn’t hear the approaching steps as the black robed attendant returned to his side. Hands coaxing the cannibal to unfurl from his position and helped him to his feet. He was unsteady and was forced to resort to gripping the figure’s shoulders while they placed the silken garments back around his form to offer the small bit of modesty. 

 

It was a slow trek back to the King’s chambers after that where Kanarian was deposited upon the large bed cushion. The muzzle was removed and his chain attached to the floor, the delicate looking silver links pooling across the white stone surface. The attendant brought by his meal but the cannibal left it untouched. Curled up into a tight ball, he faced the wall and remained hidden beneath the thin blanket, ignoring the figure behind him who pondered how to handle this new and unusual situation. The tears continued to trail down Kanarian’s face, soaking into his pillow as he gave soft sobs. 


	3. The Boy and The Beast

Time passed and dragged by another day with little activity. The attendant brought Kanarian different meals throughout the day but each went without being touched. Even the crystal glass of water went without a single drop being taken. The young man remained curled up on his cushion, never moving or speaking to the figure. They would take the uneaten meals and replace them with fresh. By the first coming of night, the King returned, greeted in the throne room by his attendant. He was displeased by the news he received but he had little time to address it with the current situation unfolding in his realm. He spoke in his native language as he passed on orders to the attendant to do whatever was necessary to get the human to eat. Even if it means using the collar to force him into a state of obedience. He gave his attendant full approval before quickly whisking off with two members in emerald robes trailing behind. The King adorned in his black armor, hand resting on the pommel of a sword attached to his belt. The sound of Fae speech echoing in the halls until it faded out.

 

The attendant bowed and returned to the King’s chamber with another cloaked figure trailing behind. A tray was carried in with a broth based meal prepared for the young man. They were going to offer him the chance to eat on his own, hoping that maybe his hunger would win out eventually. Yet again, Kanarian made no move to greet them or even turn his attention their way. The attendant spoke softly in fae speech but Kanarian didn’t answer. They knew there was a language barrier between them but there was little else they could do without invoking the runes on the collar. The attendant tried once more, calling out to the young man using his Unseelie name. “Faolan.” There was a sudden stiffness to Kanarian’s body at the mention of the name then he curled up tighter, hiding under the blanket even further. The pair of figures glanced between each other then a sigh settled. The tray was set aside so as not to be spilled as the attendant knelt beside the young man, placing a hand on Kanarian’s shoulder to pull him over towards him.

 

Silver eyes turned on the attendant, the skin around was red and swollen. The blue rings were accented with red irritation and streaks glistened across his skin. He bared his teeth in warning, pulling away from the touch and turning back away. The attendant gestured for it’s assistant to continue, moving around so they were between Kanarian and the wall. The runes on the cannibals bangles were invoked, binding his wrists together and attaching them to the collar with a very short chain to keep him from lashing out. Kanarian struggled against the restraints, shying away from the attendant and his assistant as the one behind him pulled him up into a seated position. They sat directly behind him, with him  tucked up against their lap, one arm hooked around his waist while the other arm moved under Kanarian’s bicep to grip his chin. Long slender fingers attempting to coax his mouth open so the attendant could coax the broth inside. Kanarian growled and snapped his teeth at the being’s fingers, making them flinch and draw away.

 

This was an ongoing struggle and only growing more dangerous for the pair. Another failed attempt to get the cannibal to partake of the meal very nearly cost the assistant a finger. The assistant looked up at their counterpart and they nodded to one another. A soft murmur in Fae speech and the runes on the collar lit up with a dark purple hue. An acute pain jolted through Kanarian, like electricity infecting every portion of his body. He writhed in the assistant’s firm embrace, a cry of pain leaping into the quiet air as he whimpered. His strength faded with the pain and light from the runes, leaving him limp in the assistant’s arms. He held the cannibal’s head up until he could keep it in place himself. The tension in his body was gone as was the urge to defend himself. The attendant gently pressed the rim of the bowl to Kanarian’s lips and tilted it to pool the broth into his mouth in small measured sips. The assistant would tilt Kanarian’s head back to urge him to swallow every bit of it. Interchanging the bowls only when they wished for him to drink a bit of water, soothing over his parched throat.

 

It took a bit of time and a lot of patience until they were done, releasing their hold on Kanarian but leaving him bound as he was laid back down on the cushion. The assistant giving his hair a gentle pat in approval as the blanket was drawn back up over his form. Once they left, the runes on his restraints released the temporary chains, freeing his hands once more but the chain to the collar remained to keep him on the cushion.

  
  


The King returned late in the afternoon the next day. His armor was gone, leaving a dark purple tunic and trousers he wore beneath the equipment. He wreaked of the scent of blood, some minor dark splotches stained his underclothes as he peeled them off, removing the tunic first to drop into a heap on the floor. His bare feet padding across the cool stonework to rest on the edge of the bed. He sank down into the mattress with a deep weary sigh. His golden orbs downcast, hands resting in his lap. His gaze fell upon the scar that Kanarian left on him. The bite mark on his hand was a dark sprinkling of teeth marks ingrained over pale flesh. His slender fingers rubbed over these markings in deep thought, unaware of the pair of eyes watching him.

 

Kanarian’s silver rings were fixed on the King. Staring past the muzzle that had been placed on him. He had attempted to bite the servants once again during the last two meal times. The latest feeding resulted in the muzzle being placed back on him afterwards while they cleaned him up and changed the silken garments on his form. Back to the white skirt like piece with a turquoise sash tied around his waist. His silver orbs rolled over the King’s pale form. The dark purple trousers were all that was left to cover his toned figure. His long white hair falling over his lithe form.

 

The King’s body had an average amount of muscle adorning it. Like one would expect of a fighter. He was fit and strong. The longer Kanarian observed, he could make out the darker slightly off white lines of scarring crisscrossing his body between the obvious inky black webs of veins running up along the inside of his arms, around his biceps and up his neck. There was a black cluster around his heart, faintly displaying through the nearly translucent top layer of skin. Made even more obvious by the soft moonlight glow from his core. The golden eyes were fixed intently on his hands, slow circles made over the markings. Kanarian moved to sit up, hoping to get a better look, causing the chain to rattle softly. He flinched when the golden hues turned his direction, making him shrink back, pressing low against the cushion to hide but it was too late.

 

“Faolan.” He spoke softly, the harsh cold tone from before was not present here. It, much like his gaze, was downcast with an odd sense of forlorn or sorrow. “Come here.” He commanded, holding his hand out in gesture for the male. The chain linking the collar to the floor faded away, freeing him to make his way to his master. He crawled, his body was far too stiff from his prolonged time spent in one place with little time to stretch his legs and the distance was short enough not to bother his knees too much.

 

The King reached out when Kanarian neared, greeted with a hand in his long raven hair. The fingers curled into the dark locks and flowed back behind Kanarian’s head until he found the tie at the end and pulled it free. The long black strands fell over his shoulders, the bangs slipping in front of his face like a curtain. The long slender fingers trailed through them, drawing them back out of the cannibal’s face and pushing them off to one side. His cupped underneath his pet’s chin and raised it so the silver orbs met his gaze, something Kanarian’s rarely ever did. Making him stare into the bright golden hues set back in dark pits. It was like gazing up at the night sky just as the moon broke through above the trees, still a deep orange before it met the peak of night and settled to it’s silvery tone.

 

“I want you to do something for me Faolan.” He murmured, reaching behind Kanarian’s head and releasing the straps, letting the muzzle drop to the floor. His foot scooted it aside as he spread his legs a little further to coax Kanarian closer. “Open your mouth little wolf.” He pressed his thumb to the male’s lips, giving it a slight nudge. Kanarian obliged, parting them as his eyes remained locked with the King’s. The pads of his first two fingers rolled over Kanarian’s tongue as he instructed. “Suck on them.” He mingled them with Kanarian’s tongue, pinching it between as the cannibal closed his mouth around the two digits to follow the command. It was apparent after the first moment or so that Kanarian unaware of how to carry out the act without using his teeth.

 

The King winced as one of the cannibal’s fangs broke skin, leaving a few small dark droplets on his tongue. The silver rings in his eyes flashed and he suckled more eagerly for the taste of blood, leaving another small cut behind in the process. “Faolan.” The King spoke more sternly, making Kanarian stiffen then begrudgingly relinquish the digits. He glossed over his saliva slick fingers, tainted with a darker color from the blood pooling up to the surface. He sighed and reached down to unbutton the front of his trousers. “I want you to use your tongue. No teeth.” He commanded as he withdrew his member from his trousers. Already hard and throbbing with the need for relief. Even here, the inky black veins reached out as the shaft pulsed, swollen to near breaking.

 

He wove his fingers into the dark locks, guiding Kanarian’s head closer to it. The cannibal’s gaze shifted for the first time towards the new task. He was apprehensive at first, his mind withdrawing to linger on their people’s beliefs. Many of his people would consume the genitals of their sacrifices in times when they sought blessings of fertility. The women would consume the reproductive portions of women and men, that of other men. With the goddess’s blessings, they would be bestowed with a child that night. This was nothing like that but it still unnerved him. With the hunger lying just beneath the surface, sparked by the first tastes of blood in the last few days. He closed his eyes and stuck out his tongue, giving it a gentle lick, testing the waters of this action. He followed it with another soon after and was able to pressed closer as he continued.

 

The King’s fingers curled into the dark locks, tightening their grip then relaxing and giving his head encouraging strokes. After a moment more, Kanarian leaned forward, one hand posting his body in front of him, the other hand gingerly caressing the heated mass and giving it a gentle slow stroke as his tongue rolled up along the shaft, pressing against the sensitive veins as they went. His eyes opened just enough to notice the small pinkish beads of fluid bubbling up from the slit. He gave it a teasing swipe with his tongue and was greeted with a sweet floral flavor, like rose water across his taste buds. He continued to roam across the tip, polishing over it and lapping up more of the little droplets before dropping back down to the base of the shaft to give it more affection. The fingers tightened their hold as a low groan left the King’s chest. “Good boy, Faolan.” He praised, giving Kanarian a few more encouraging pets, combing his fingers through his hair in the process.

 

He felt the pressure reaching its limits as the cannibal continued it’s thorough licking. He hissed, taking in a deep breath as his grip on Kanarian’s hair tightened enough to draw his head away. “Open your mouth Faolan and look at me.” He directed, golden eyes meeting the cannibals gaze as he parted his lips obediently. His tongue sticking out just slightly, enough to please the King with his soft pink cheeks, tinted with his own slight arousal. The King gave a few firm strokes of his shaft and pressed the tip of his member to the opening of the young man’s mouth, spurting his rosey seed across his tongue, he grunted, squeezing out a little bit more before he was satisfied. Releasing Kanarian’s hair with a sigh. “Swallow it all Faolan then clean this off.”

 

Kanarian nodded, closing his mouth and licking his lips clean of the sweet sticky substance. He leaned forward and cleaned the remaining droplets from the slit and shaft until the King tucked himself away. “Good boy.” He purred, giving the white silk garment a glance and noticing the uneven resting of the fabric in the cannibal’s lap. “Did you enjoy that?” He inquired with amusement before patting the bed beside him. “Come on up.”

 

Kanarian was hesitant, his cheeks flushing an even darker tone in embarrassment as attention was brought to the problem he harbored. He gave a sheepish nod before pushing himself up to his feet and climbed up to sit beside the King. A subtle gesture and the runes on Kanarian’s bangles on his wrists glowed, drawing his wrists above his head as he was pulled towards the end of the bed as the chains attached themselves to a focal point on the headboard, curling around the branches and forcing Kanarian onto his back, stretched out and exposed. “Wait! Please, no.” Kanarian’s voice rose, his silver orbs were wide and panicked as he looked between the binding chains and his master.

 

The King sat beside him with a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Do not fear Faolan, I’m not going to breed you.” Slender fingers tapped at the growing bulge beneath the silks. “I merely wish to give you a new experience. It’s obvious you’ve little knowledge on the ways of pleasure.” He explained as his hand slipped beneath the skirt garment.

 

Kanarian drew in a sharp hiss as those fingers curled around his shaft, finding it already rather hard, giving it a few long firm strokes. His thumb rubbing over the slit to spread the bitter beads of precum across the surface, adding a small bit of lubrication in the process. The cannibal gasped, his legs spreading a little further as pleasure formed in his abdomen, adding to the growing heat across his flesh. He closed his eyes and gasped, head tipping back as wrists tugged on the bangles.

 

The pace remained the same steady strokes but the sensitivity of a virgin did its job at easing him near completion. His hips trembled, giving pitiful jerks upwards only to be stopped by the strong grip keeping him in place. He whimpered, drawing back before they would continue. “Ask me properly Faolan. Ask me to give you relief.”

 

Kanarian whined as the strokes paused once more, the thumb teasing at the slit beneath the fabric to keep him on edge but not push him over. Silver orbs were pleading as his face ignited with shameful heat. He bite his bottom lip hard enough to bleed before giving in to his carnal urges. “Please si-”

 

A firm squeeze and narrowed eyes of disapproval came at the honorific being used. “ _Properly_ Faolan.” He repeated.

 

Kanarian’s mind went blank for a few thunderous heart beats as he searched for the proper way of addressing this situation. “P-please Master, may I have relief?” He tried, hoping it was correct. He was answered by a handful more firm strokes, thumb rolling over the sensitive tip and teasing the slit until the cannibal trembled with relief. His seed soiling the white silk and splattering the King’s hand with his fluids. He withdrew from Kanarian’s member and wiped his hand clean on the male’s garments.

 

“Good boy.” The King praised as he turned to stand, moving towards one of the dark trunks. His back turned to Kanarian, allowing him to see the two massive scars paralleling his spine from his shoulder blades down to mid back. They were much wider, longer and looked far deeper than the ones that the King inflicted upon the cannibal. With them were many smaller wounds that appeared to be much older and fading out with time. The King dug around in the trunk until he came up with a black tunic, placing it over his torso, snug in fit before he raised a more elegant robe like garment to tie over it. A golden sash tied around his waist to keep the robe closed, the fabric had golden patterns embroidered into it along the edges. The King adjusted the garment, fixing the cuffs around his wrists before turning to leave the room. The chain released Kanarian’s wrists as the King spoke firmly. “Faolan, stay. Someone will be by to guide you to the bathing rooms soon.” With that, the King glided through the threshold in swift strides, heading to attend to the rest of his business.

  
  


Kanarian had spent the rest of the day going through his usual routine as the king’s pet. He was led to the bathing rooms by the attendant, cleaned up and dressed. His hair was braided back to it’s usual style and he was dressed in a black silken skirt with a golden sash tied around his waist this time around. When he returned to the King’s chamber, he was greeted with his meal and spent the rest of the day curled up on his cushion. When night came, the King returned to his chamber and for the first time in days, they slept in the same room.

 

Kanarian spent most of the night awake and staring into the darkness that settled over them with the lights above being off. It resembled a snow filled night, dark but all the white in their surroundings gave it a gentle glow. The only sound came from the soft sounds of the King breathing and the occasional shifting of his form beneath the blankets. The chain hadn’t been returned after his meal as he was permitted to roam around the room if he wished to stretch his legs. The runes on the birch tree archway wouldn’t open to him, as he tried multiple times to get through, hoping to explore the palace a bit more.

 

He rolled over onto his side, facing the rest of the room with a weary sigh. He was restless and ached for the woodlands. He wanted to run through the trees and feel the warmth of the sun on his skin. The cool waters trickling over his feet as he waded into the stream to catch fish. He wanted to be free, to return to the forest where he belonged. But with that freedom came yet another prison. Outside of this place, he was still captive under the thumb of the Clan Mother.

 

He sighed, curling up under the blanket further, his silver orbs closing for a moment, hoping to submit to sleep. It remained so far from his reach, leaving him idle and making his yearnings more direct. His thoughts were disturbed by the soft shift of air rolling over his exposed cheek. His eyes opened in time to see the faint glow of runes but they weren’t the normal shade of blue that appeared to permit access. These runes were a sickly orange like fire against the branches of the birch arches. A robed figure cast in white entered the room, approaching the King’s bed slowly until they stood beside it. Their movements were silent, unaware of Kanarian’s presence. The familiar glint of silver showed itself in the darkness as the figure slid the blade from inside the robe, a short blade meant for easy concealment.

 

Kanarian watched as the being raised it above the King. His silver eyes flashed as the glint of steel and the pose over the King’s body reminded him of his Mother leaned over the sacrificial altar, prepared to deliver the killing blow on a drugged subject. His anger and hunger ignited and he was on his feet before he could think. His body crouched low as he lunged, crashing into the figure and sending them to the floor, knocking the blade free from their grasp to skitter underneath the bed. The being struggled against Kanarian as the cannibal grappled for them The white robes slipping open to expose pristine white flesh around their neck and chest, the hood was knocked ajar exposing a pointed ear crested with golden jewelry and the tattooed side of a face with long vine like markings.

 

The intruder struck out at Kanarian, hitting him across his face and drawing blood from his lip. Kanarian snarled and bared his sharp teeth at the being, gnashing them dangerously as the silver glow increased with his primal urges. The predator beneath the surface was prepared to kill. A curse in a foreign language, Fae speech filling the room as they fought him off. A sharp pain hit Kanarian’s side as a blunt object was used to try and ward him off.

 

The predatory nature of the cannibal was invoked, with a growl as teeth sunk into the intruder’s neck, ripping pieces of flesh from bone and tearing open the throat. The gurgled choking sounds of blood invading the windpipes was terrifyingly loud as the body flailed wildly, hands gripping painfully at the back of Kanarian’s head, tugging on his braid hard enough to make his scalp bleed but it only made the young man attack more ferociously. His hands clawed at the intruder’s face, leaving deep gouges as he pulled muscle and ripped through tendon’s leaving them to drop to the floor around them in large sickening black heaps. The sound of footsteps echoed in the room and voices sounded in horrified union but none of it was familiar. Kanarian felt hands at his back, strong powerful arms hooking up underneath his biceps and drawing him back. The bangles on his wrists and ankles were bound together to immobilize him, the collar connecting to the cuff links to control his head from turning and biting someone else.

 

The silver ring in his eyes was prominent enough that it nearly consumed the blue exterior. They were wide and wild, struggling against the embrace keeping him from his prey until golden eyes locked with his gaze. There were words being spoken but the blood was rushing too loudly in his ears to make sense of. The King snapped his fingers in front of his face to get his attention, making him blink a few times. His heart was a drum beat in his chest. Behind the King, a handful of guards and the attendant looked over the body, searching what was left to try and identify the intruder. On the form was a sealed golden case with a scroll inside. Part of the King’s archives and the same object the intruder was using to hit Kanarian with. Parts of the intruder’s face, neck and torso had been mutilated, none of which Kanarian had consumed. It was all spit back out onto the floor beside it, the head was craned at an unusual angle, the neck possibly broken from the force. Pieces of the windpipe and jugular were missing as well.

 

The young cannibal coughed as he started to calm down, his mouth coated in blood, making him choke each time he attempted to swallow. Unlike the King’s which was sweet, this was bitter and sour. It had an ashy taste to it that cluttered his throat as if sickness had settled there. He coughed harder, giving struggling sounds before the attendant came over with a crystal bowl of water, helping the bound male sip a bit to clear out the blood and spit it into his empty bowl from earlier that night. The water was black with a sludge like quality afterwards. With a few sips of clean clear water, he was able to calm down, his gaze returning to the fresh corpse on the floor of the King’s chamber.

 

It didn’t last long as the King reached over and cupped Kanarian’s chin, tilting it to the side to examine the new bruises that were already starting to form from the fight. “Faolan?” He asked again now that the male seemed to be more focused. Kanarian met his gaze, giving his master his complete attention. “Why did you attack them?” He spoke firmly, his tone demanding answers and that they be the truth.

 

Kanarian’s lips parted to speak but they stopped and he closed them in thought. He opened again and seemed to be struggling to form thoughts into words. The King seemed to grow frustrated at this but he knew part of the problem as his golden gaze rose to inspect the state of his pet’s eyes. The silver rings hadn’t returned to their normal size yet, the primal urge of the Goddess’ blessing was still running through his blood. Her curse making him akin to a beast and no beast of the earth can speak like man. He sighed, looking around the room until his eyes settled on the desk, he gestured for the attendant to collect his quill and parchment from the surface, bringing it over to the cannibal. He activated the ruins to lengthen the chain so he could write and laid the parchment out before the male. The quill placed in the pet’s fingers as he gestured for Kanarian to write. “Tell me everything.”

 

He did so without hesitation, explaining the entire scene leading up to the attack. The ominous glow of the runes, the white robe moving silently and the way they positioned themselves over the King. The blade they held and the feeling that overcame him. He stopped at the attack since the rest was obvious and the King had witnessed it all. From the moment Kanarian took the man to the ground and he began screaming at the human in Fae speech, the King was on his feet and calling for his guards. It took a bit to get Kanarian off of the intruder, hoping to keep him alive for questioning but they were too late. The cannibal had gone directly for the kill.

 

The King placed a gentle hand atop Kanarian’s head and stroking through his dark bangs, drawing them out of his face as he murmured just between the two of them. “You did good Faolan. You protected your master like a good boy.” Kanarian bowed his head at the gesture, nodding slowly in understanding. A light fluttery feeling filled his chest, warmth spreading as his heart beat a little faster at the sounds of praise. It wasn’t something he was used to hearing, hardly ever actually unless it was for performing acts he was forced into committing. This time around he did it of his own volition, to protect his master and it felt nice. To be praised for something he desired to do.

 

It took some time for the King’s chamber to be looked over and processed. Kanarian was taken by the attendant to the bathing room and dressed in a white silk garment with a grey sash around the waist. In addition, he had a light blue robe like the King had worn with silver embroidery around the edges, tied firmly around the waist with the chest portion open to expose his sun kissed skin. His long raven hair hung loose down his back and was combed out. Afterwards he was guided to the throne room. The muzzle was offered to the King as he sat lazily on his throne, his golden eyes tired from being disturbed from his rest. His head was propped up by his palm, his elbow resting on the arm of the chair as he gave a tired yawn. Glancing from the muzzle towards Kanarian, he gestured for the cannibal to come closer to which Kanarian obeyed. The King gazed intently into the cannibal’s eyes, studying the status of the silver coloring before dismissing his attendant and the muzzle altogether. Kanarian resumed his place on the cushion at his side.

 

After several minutes passed, the King called his pet’s Unseelie name, drawing silver blue hues towards him. “Come here.” He commanded, urging his pet to rest between his legs. Kanarian crawled over to filled the space, greeted with long slender fingers curling through his silky raven locks. Drawing them back out of the male’s face, he continued the petting motions. The cannibal felt soft tingling sensations in his scalp, wincing softly as the fingers brushed over the tender skin at the back but atop his head it felt nice. He tested the waters and rested his head against his master’s thigh, the hand in his hair paused briefly as the King regarded this action then resumed his petting motions.

 

Golden eyes watching his pet as he gave another yawn, hoping the mess was taken care of soon so he could get a few more hours of sleep before returning to his duties. He watched as his pet closed his eyes, relaxing against his thigh, feeling the weight against his leg and the way his breathing evened out. A few minutes later and the cannibal was sound asleep against his master, the sudden explosion of excitement in the night was the salve to his restlessness. Another stifled yawn and the King’s lips pulled into a pleased smile, resting his hand atop Kanarian’s as his own need for sleep began plucking at his mind. He knew he wouldn’t have to fear another attempt on his life with his little wolf at his side.


	4. Wolves By Moonlight

The next day was a flurry of excitement for Kanarian. Since the attempt on the King’s life the night before, His Majesty decided to keep his pet close to his side at all times. This meant accompanying the King on his duties around the realm, including a routine walk along the borders to ensure there are no other signs of intruders between the worlds. Kanarian was dressed in his usual skirt like garb with a thicker material meant for outdoor wear but in the King’s signature black with a gold sash. A black and gold robe was placed around his shoulders with long sleeves reaching to his wrists, the chest portion was designed to remain open until mid belly where it came back together to cover then on down. He was offered the option of shoes but Kanarian decided against it. He enjoyed the feeling of the earth beneath his feet, where his toes could curl into the soil. They were well conditioned for the harsher terrain from all the years of running and climbing barefoot. 

 

He wore the delicate looking leash, guided by the attendant to meet up with the King and his guards in the Throne room. Men adorned in black capes, shoulders large and broad with the appearance of armor beneath with two lithe emerald robed figures flanking them from behind. Kanarian could see the pommels of their swords peeking out from beneath the cloaks, their hands resting on them idly. The King was dressed in his black armor, sturdy and battle ready but light and easy to move in. His sword was tied to his belt as he awaited the arrival of his pet. 

 

The attendant handed the leash over to the King upon arrival and bowed until dismissed with a gesture. A brief interaction of foreign words and the attendant returned to their duties. The King greeted his pet with a hand resting atop the cannibal’s head. His golden orbs inspected the injuries his pet received the night before. The slight swelling of his scalp was hidden beneath the thick layers of raven hair, wrangled into the neat braid but the bruised cheek and swollen bottom lip was far too easy to spot.

 

“Come Faolan.” He commanded after lingering on the well being of his subject before a light tug on the chain directed him forward. Kanarian obeyed and trailed behind the King but slightly off to the side as dictated by the length of the chain at the moment. The King’s guards trailed behind them, caging the pair in on one side and keeping Kanarian in their sights. He looked unbearably out of place amidst the armed group but he was happy nonetheless as long as it meant being out of that accursed room and in the wilds where he belonged. 

 

They walked through the pair of massive birch archways, the runes permitting them entry through the glamoured threshold. The palace was lined with large silver tree trunks that rose high above and arched over into a tunnel of pale green leaves and soft white blossoms, sweet scents intermingling with the air. There was a natural brook that flowed underneath  with a stone bridge arching over to continue the path towards the gates made up of another birch archway this time wrapped in ivy with soft purple flowers blooming across the vines. From there, the path was lined with little red tinted mushrooms speckled with white splotches. It led from the palace gates to deeper in the forest until the mushrooms faded out and the footpath was exchanged for animal trails. The King moved with purpose, knowing the route well as he continued with Kanarian close behind. 

 

The forest was quiet, the soil was soft beneath his feet and the trees were much more alive then when he entered so many days ago. Though it remained a bit dreary as far as lighting, the canopy above was so thick that it was hard for sunlight to get through very easily. Only the occasional shreds here and there warming his skin for brief moments. There was some evidence of animals prowling about. The small nibbles on grass shoots from rabbits and the rub marks on trees from deer. The subtle broken branches and small tufts of reddish brown fur to signal the presence of a fox with the faint stale aroma to follow showing it was recent. There were hoof prints in mossy patches and the scattering of berries from birds, causing Kanarian to glance around in search of the bushes they had come from. Some of which were his favorite to forage for while hunting. They were nearing the end of their season and he wouldn’t be able to find them again until the next year. 

 

He was offered a moment to explore as the King came to a halt at a cluster of the same red mushrooms from the palace gates. They were growing in a small circle, resting atop a rock blanketed in soft rust colored moss. Kanarian’s chain was released as the King busied himself with conversing with the beings in emerald robes. They opened up pouches containing scrolls and made markings with a charcoal stick with notes in foreign lettering jotted down beside it. Meanwhile, the cannibal snuck off towards the bushes nearby, roaming over what was left of the berries, hoping some of the plump black ones were left behind. Kneeling down, he picked a small handful and looked around curiously, lacking a pouch to carry them in. He ended up salvaging a few large leaves from a nearby plant to weave together into a cradle of green, piling his collection into it and eating a few berries in the process.

 

They were sweet with a tart aftertaste, one of his favorite to mash up into a slurry mixture with a bit of water and a drop of honey. Boiling it up to make a juice drink out of, keeping it in a gourd stained from all the past uses. It would infuriate his mother for playing with his food or being childish with it but it never stopped him. He’d let the gourd float in the river bank to cool down while he fished and would partake of the sweet juice beneath the warm rays of a summer sun. 

 

He was caught up in these fond memories and thoughts when the King’s voice sounded from behind. He turned around to greet the golden eyed gaze, narrowed on him suspiciously as if anticipating trouble from his pet. “Faolan, come.” He commanded sharply, urging the cannibal to approach sheepishly, head bowed as if in trouble. He held up the leafy bed of berries in offering to his master. The King raised a brow at the gesture, scrutinizing the generosity of his pet before partaking of the little fruits. “Don’t run off like that.” He chastised his pet, drawing a nod of understanding from the smaller raven haired male. 

 

The King reached up and cupped Kanarian’s chin, lifting it so their eyes would meet, his thumb brushing over the swollen lip of his pet in idle thought, wiping clean the small reddish juice lingering on the corner of his mouth. He held his pet’s gaze a moment more before his hand dropped, palm open as the chain extended from the collar to rest in his outstretched hand, the ring on his finger glowing a soft blue before he gave a light tug, signalling it was time to go. They continued on a little longer, moving from one cluster of red and white mushrooms to the next, the group of armed men would search the surrounding area while the emerald robed figures would speak with the King and make marks on their scrolls and jot down notes. Kanarian had long since finished his berries and was crouched down near a bush, fiddling with a branch in the dirt in an almost childish way. He enjoyed nature very much but it still felt like work being out like this. He was kept within the King’s sights at all times, never traveling too far from his side. Most often sitting beside him on the ground or in the roots of the nearest tree. 

 

At one point he found a thick stick, a piece of a branch broken off from the last storm. It was firm and had yet to succumb to rot. He plucked at the smaller branches and the little knots on it using his fingernails and continued after he found a rock in the dirt with a flattened end. It was just enough to scrap the harder layers of bark off and peel it away until the wood was stripped clean, his fingers smelled of pine and was covered in dirt by the end but he was pleased with his idle task. Even continuing after the King summoned him to his side. The man considered the state of his pet, filthy with dirt and grime, not only with his hands but his knees from kneeling on the ground and his bare feet were damp and muddy from their trek, fallen leaves pasted to the bottoms of his feet. He wasn’t sure rather to be amused or disgusted by the primitive appearance. There was even a few mud smudges on his cheek from when he’d swipe his falling bangs out of his face or rub at his jaw with his dirty hands, mindful over the bruising. The King rolled his eyes and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as they finished up the task for the day. 

 

With the soldiers surrounding them, the walk back to the palace was slow and leisurely. The King appeared to be in less of a hurry now that his work was done, he would even to go so far as to consider himself satisfied with it compared to how the last few days have been going. He was even pleased with how his pet had handled himself, especially with freedom being so close at hand. Of course, if he strayed too far the King could invoke the collar and stop him in his tracks, but the young human didn’t even attempt to flee. The closest of a scare he got to that happened was when he looked up and couldn’t find him at their first stop. He was about to call upon the collar when he spotted the familiar head of dark hair bobbing around in the bushes though berry picking wasn’t what he was expecting from the lethal pet. How someone so formidable with the goddess’s blessing could be so vulnerable and at ease was beyond him. 

 

After the events of the night before, the King knew better then to underestimate his little wolf. He was obedient now but when provoked? His golden eyes shifted to gaze down at the smaller male and realized he was still fussing with the stick. He watched him as they walked, admiring the studious silver gaze fixed with so much intent on a piece of dead wood. It was odd enough, even more so as the male worked away at it with the dull stone in hand. “Faolan.” He spoke in a low voice, the conversation was only between them. 

 

The quiet request drew the conflicting blue and silver orbs up to their master, a questioning expression stretched across his features. Kanarian’s hands finally ceased their motions, frozen over the stick mid action. “Yes Master?” The cannibal’s voice was quiet as if he feared speaking too loudly in their current environment. The quiet that settled amidst the woods was tranquil and relaxing for him. 

 

“What are your intentions with that stick?” The King inquired, his words rather blunt and golden gaze fixed on his pet demanding honesty from him.

 

Kanarian paused, looking towards the stick for a moment in thought before shrugging in response. “I don’t know yet. I haven’t decided.” He held up the rock in gesture, giving a soft sigh. “I don’t even know if I’ll get any further on it with this.” The earlier skinning of the stick had dulled the rock with the residual oils from the tree that remained just under the bark. He sighed and tossed the rock off to the side of the path but ran his thumb over the smooth wood thoughtfully. The intention in his eyes remained, a desire within and an urge to fulfill it. 

 

The King let silence linger between them as they neared the beginning of the red and white mushroom path leading back home. With a few minutes of deliberation, he reached inside his cloak and withdrew the small blade from the night before. The same that the intruder had attempted to use to kill him with. “This was found beneath my bed last night. The sheath for it was on the intruder’s body. I am giving this to you under the condition that it will not be turned back on me.” The King explained, holding the blade out to his pet, the sheath wrapping the small blade, the dark leather had intricate designs like vines branded into the material. Kanarian accepted it, hesitant at first as if expecting it to be a trick of some kind. “I want you to be able to defend yourself in my absence. I can’t have you eating everyone that approaches. It’s unhealthy. Fae blood can be toxic in large amounts, especially to humans. Do you understand?”

 

“Yes Master.” Kanarian said firmly, giving a respectful bow of his head to the King before taking the knife in hand. He slid it free from the sheath and admired the divine craftsmanship and care in the edge. It was a very fine knife indeed. He feared just touching the blade would break his skin open. With careful strokes, he pressed the edge to the branch and shaved piece after piece off of it. His lips curled up into an appreciative smile as he began working away at the wood, forming it into an ovular shape as he shed piece by piece and worked around it to break the ends of the branch off. The King watched curiously and sighed, fearing he may have encouraged an unnerving hobby. 

 

Once they returned to the palace, they were greeted by the attendant. Kanarian was taken to the bathing rooms to be cleaned up and given fresh clothing. His garments this time were all white with a light blue sash. The embroidery design was the same elegant appearance only this time done in a silver color. His hair was drawn up in the usual braid after being washed and combed out thoroughly. He was returned to the King’s chamber to meet up with His Majesty. The pet had paused his whittling when the attendant came and he was forced to give up his knife and project to the King. When he returned to the room, both were sitting on his cushion awaiting his return with his meal already prepared and ready. It consisted of a vegetable soup with cooked dough balls floating atop and a fine cheese throughout. Still no meat in sight. He didn’t have any troubles with his craving lately, at least not after he attacked the intruder but he was still troubled by the missing protein. 

 

The King was absent for nearly an hour before he returned to his chambers. His long white hair was tied back into a ponytail to remain out of his face, his features creased in thought. A dark green outfit adorned his body, black trousers with a dark green robe and a white tunic beneath, nearly melting into the starched skin color beneath. The soft glow like moonlight resonated within his chest. A black sash was tied around his waist as he walked into the room with documents in hand. His men stopping outside the threshold of birch trees to stand guard before the glamour resumed and they were provided their privacy once more. 

 

The King caught the scent of wood in the air, causing him to look up from the important scrolls to address the source, finding the cannibal was curled up asleep on his cushion. The tray from his meal earlier in the day was set aside, the bowls of both soup and water were empty. His head was tucked down into the cushion as he laid on his stomach, his arms folded around it with the blanket resting on him from his hip down. A pile of wood shavings were gathered on the floor and the knife given to him was tucked underneath the cushion in easy reach. He frowned, finding there was no sign of a solid piece of wood and he wondered if the male had done all that just to whittle it down to nothing. He set his document aside on his desk and crossed the room in silent strides to adjust the blanket to cover his pet’s back and shoulders as well. Giving him a gentle pat atop his head. 

 

He straightened back up with a deep breath, the tension in his shoulders melting away at the peaceful relaxed face of his pet. Turning away from the male, his gaze caught an unusual anomaly in the room. Something small and tawny in color was sitting on his bed. A few steps closer and he realized it was a small wooden idol, about the size of a chicken’s egg. He moved closer to pluck it gingerly from the spot and found it appeared to be a rabbit, sitting back on its hind legs with it’s head raised and paws tucked in front of it’s chest. Its ears were perked with big eyes staring up at him. It was realistic and charming. The tiniest details were shown with the use of the sharpened tip of the blade and years of experience. He glanced over towards his pet again, letting the corner of his lips curl up into a tiny smile. 

 

He carried the little totem over to the desk to let it rest off to the side as he sat down and began pouring over the rest of the pile of documents laid out across the surface. He jotted down notable pieces of information and composed a letter to his generals to redirect the focus of their subordinates to certain focal points around the realm. The world was becoming more and more dangerous at time passed. The devices of modern man were becoming far more complex and their reach is spreading wider and wider to the point where it is inevitable that they will be crossing their borders more often. The King feared for the safety of his realm when that time comes. If someone as simple as the young hunter could cross over so easily into his domain, no. The King shook his head at that. What happened with Kanarian was far from simple. His people were connected to the other side, though the threads are thin and fragile, the goddess they worship keeps them connected to the other side. The proof is in their eyes. 

 

He sighed, leaning back in his seat as he rubbed at his temples, feeling the tension and stress of the day catching back up to him. His golden gaze fixed on the tiny animal totem resting on his desk, causing him to reach out and stroke his fingers over the fine details, the soft textures and rivets. His attention lingered only a little longer before it was drawn to the birch tree archway as the runes glowed with the coming presence. The King was greeted with the familiar form of his attendant who gave a respectful bowed and offered words of apology in their native tongue. The King gave his approval and held out his hand to accept the urgent message the attendant carried in a silver casing. Within was a scroll with a gilded seal, it unfurled, written within was a coded message that the King was able to decipher. He was the only one capable of deciphering it other then the person who sent it. At the bottom was a buck print, two hooves to sign it off. The calling card of a dear old and deeply trusted friend. 

 

The King was up on his feet, closing the scroll and passing an order to his attendant. His golden eyes turned towards his pet as he spoke loudly and sharply. “Faolan!” 

 

The cannibal jolted awake on his cushion, his eyes wide and teeth bared in warning, his form tense as his gaze searched the surrounding room with sleep heavy on his mind. Part of him was still struggling to wake up when they met the stern golden gaze. He shrank back and sat up to fix his posture, bowing his head in submission to his Master. “We’re going on a trip, now.” With that, the King turned to his attendant who quickly rushed from the room to gather what was needed. 

 

Kanarian was dressed into a set of plain clothing consisting of sandal like shoes crisscrossing his feet in thin leather straps with the flat piece to cover his sole. He wore dark work trousers and a dark blue tunic, the kind labor workers wear. His knife was tucked into a belt around his waist, there was no sash present. No elegant embroidery either and his clothing had long sleeves meant to hide the bangles from view. An older looking heavy dark brown cloak wrapped around his shoulders, the hood hiding his features well enough. The King removed his silver crown and set it inside a locked trunk with the rest of his apparel. His clothing resembled Kanarian’s only with a dark green tunic and a heavy black cloak over his shoulders. His sword rested on his hip and instead of sandals, he wore boots meant for hard terrain and long days. 

 

They traveled through the palace using the servant’s passages to get to a closed off courtyard with benches and a single solitary fountain running in the center. There was little in way of plant life growing there as the year reached its end and many of the plants were starting to die off. The only sign of life was a larger ring of the red and white spotted mushrooms over a patch of dark green moss. The attendant stood by, watching over them as they entered the center ring. 

 

“Faolan, come.” The King ordered, holding his arm out gesturing for the male to move closer. The ring was small enough to force them chest to chest. The King wrapped his arms around his pet and held him tightly, murmuring a phrase in his native tongue. The air around them crackled with the hum of static like a growing storm was on the horizon. Kanarian’s hair stood on end and goosebumps spread across his skin. The world felt like it toppled over, making him dizzy and forcing him to close his eyes. It only lasted a moment, but when the sensation stopped, Kanarian clutched to his master to keep still on his feet, fearing he would sway and tumble if he let go. The King was patient with his pet since this was his first time crossing realms so quickly and he was a human after all. Traveling by Faery Ring was common in his realm to get from one place to the next. A simple spell and incantation and they can travel anywhere they desire. Many young children knew how to use Faery rings and did so often. To the point their were nursery rhymes about it amidst his people. 

 

After a minute, Kanarian was able to draw away and give his master space. Before he could get far, the King gripped his forearms and pulled him back over to murmur into his ear. His tone sharp and cold. “Stay by my side and don’t talk to anyone. Never ever take the cloak off or let your hood fall back. We are here to meet a very important person and it cannot be known who we are or where we’ve come from. If you fail in either of these commands, the consequences will be severe, do you understand Faolan?” 

 

The grip on Kanarian’s arms tightened to painful proportions. He winced and nodded quickly to show his understanding before he finally caught his wits enough to answer properly. “Yes Master.” He spoke quickly and lowly so nobody would over hear. His silver-blue orbs conflicted with fear and confusion as they were pierced by the golden gaze staring daggers back at him. They were cold and serious, demanding absolute obedience. Kanarian swallowed thickly and forced his gaze away to bow in submission. Silence followed before the hands released their hold and the King started his way ahead, forcing Kanarian to move quickly to keep up. 

 

They left through a narrow corridor that led out to an open market street filled with people, many of them were adorned in different colors of cloaks, all of them ranged from tall and skinny to short and stocky, some were big like bulls and built just as broad and some were petite and moved through the cluster of busy patrons and passersby with ease. The streets were massive, lined on all sides with vendors selling all kinds of oddities and trinkets. There was jewelry made from the bones of beasts he had never seen before, gold and jewels in the most beautiful arrangements. There were animals Kanarian recognized, livestock and wild creatures such as foxes and owls, one man appeared to be selling a collection of ravens. Then there were strange lizards that appeared to breath flame and eggs glistening with so many different colors and textures, they looked to valuable and mystical to want to consume. 

 

Then there were people; people tied to posts or locked in cages, marked with collars like himself or bound in heavy chains that seemed to sink them to the floor. Men and women, those that looked human and some with cloven hooves and horns atop their heads. Some had fangs and eyes like large cats, some had scales or feathers peeking out from beneath their clothing. Some had tears in their eyes, begging to passersby. Some looked broken and beaten down into permanent submission. At these times, Kanarian stopped, staring down at these pitiful souls. A knot twisted up inside his chest, though he wore chains of bondage now and served a master of his own. When he was permitted freedom before, he wore those same faces every single day. His heart ached in sympathy, knowing exactly what it was like, that feeling of loss. Of loneliness. Of having no hope at all for a future or even the ability to accept another day in a world like this.

 

He was dragged from his thoughts when his wrist was grabbed and he was jerked forward harshly, the familiar cold voice of the King hissing into his ear. “Keep moving Faolan. There is nothing you can do for them.” The cannibal was aware of this but he remained apprehensive to follow until another harsh tug came. The King’s nails dug painfully into his wrist as he was pulled closer, tucking him up against his side to have better control of his pet. He forced Kanarian to keep pushing through the crowd towards their destination. It wasn’t until they got nearer to the building that Kanarian realized it appeared to be a gathering place of sorts. He wasn’t very knowledgeable on places like this other then the communal feasting hall back home in his village where sacrifices and rituals often took place. 

 

He was pleasantly surprised to find this establishment did not center around that ideal as they entered to find several tables situated around the first floor. There was music playing in the corner where a small band sat strumming strange stringed instruments, thumping against what appeared to be traditional style drums of wood and animal hide and playing on wooden pipes to make sociable music. It was apparent to Kanarian that nearly everyone within the establishment was ignoring the melody that came from the corners as the voices raised, nearly overshadowing the notes as drunken rambling in a multitude of foreign languages surrounded them. 

 

They didn’t linger in the threshold at all as the King gripped his hand tightly and dragged him towards a table in the far back where an odd man sat. He had long black hair and swirl like tattoos on either side of his cheeks, ingrained in red ink against dark whiskey colored skin. His face was human, a chiseled jaw structure and high cheekbones accenting the does eyed brown eyes that greeted them. All around a very charming and handsome individual if Kanarian had to sum it all up. What was unusual about him was the fact a pair of ram’s horns formed on either side of his head, curling up out of the thick dark locks. Unlike many of the patrons within the establishment, he did not wear a hood but a cloak did wrap his body to keep it warm and protected from the elements. As they neared the table, the King whispered in his ear a simple enough command to seat himself. The table was small enough not to be noticed and lingered on the fringes of the tavern. It was loud enough for them to do their business discreetly. The King seated himself with Kanarian at his side, keeping across from his informant. He gave a gesture of greeting, far more friendly and close then Kanarian has seen any of the King’s subject be and then they proceeded to speak in a foreign and ancient language. Nothing like the Fae speech he has heard so far. 

 

A few minutes into their conversation and the bartender approached with a tray of drinks, placing one in front of each of them. Kanarian looked up to give her a gesture of appreciation when he paused. She had dark skin like chocolate, far darker than the man they were seated with. Her hair was a head of long dark curls wrangled into place using a dark purple cloth with intricate black designs across it. She wore a dark purple blouse and a black trousers that hugged her form. The outfit  accented the curves of her body beautifully but it wasn’t in a sexual way. If anything, it showed the power that her toned form held. It reminded him of a woman back at his village who taught the younger children how to work wood for building. She was a very strong woman, well respected and loved but also very quiet. 

 

But that wasn’t what surprised him. No, what made him pause and stare was the fact her eyes were milky white. They held no sign of sight. He found he could not look away, not in disgust or because she was unsightly, no. He found it beautiful. Like he was gazing up into the light of the moon. The same awed feeling he would discover each time he peered at his master when his chest was bare and his core was in full view giving him a brief peek into what the night feels like. The sweet swells of serenity that followed such a sight. It was relaxing to see. The woman’s lips pulled into a smile as she placed a hand on Kanarian’s shoulder. Her fingers brushing against a brief moment of exposed skin as silent words entered his mind. They were as loud as if she had spoken them herself but her lips dared not move.  _ ‘For you, child of the moon. To soothe your grief and warm that which your heart mourns.’  _ The words echoed in his mind as she drew her hand away, giving another gesture towards the drink before the made her way back to her work. One hand extended in a subtle reach as if she were searched the air in front of her. 

 

Kanarian turned his attention to his master, half expecting the King to have noticed the exchange but he remained fixed in his conversation. The cannibal gave the drink a curious glance, shaking the tankard in a swirling motion and stirring up the sweetly scented fluid. He caught hints of honey and peaches in the air, making his taste buds yearn for a drink. He raised it to his lips and was pleased with the cool refreshing cocktail of sweet natural flavors. There was only the briefest of sour aftertaste coming from the hints of citrus within. He felt his cheeks warm with the first sip and his body felt a little more relaxed after the tense walk through the market. He sipped a bit more, letting the warmth flow over his body and absorb him into its folds. 

 

The discussion continued between the two. The Faun companion took idle sips of his drink, nodding at the words of his dearest and oldest friend. His chocolate eyes softened, gazing into the golden orbs like amber trapped in tar. Still glinting with all the shine of the stars. He would set his drink aside, half tended to while he continued to explain. Reaching into his robes, he withdrew another important document and discreetly slipped it under the table to his friend. The King reached to accept the document, not even taking the time to look at it before tucking it inside his cloak as well. His boot nudging the pair of cloven hooves beneath, the Faun’s lips curled into a small smirk at the gesture before making a teasing comment in return. The King shook his head and sighed, giving his drink a moment’s glance before disregarding it. Choosing to keep his wits about him in such tense times. The Faun made another comment, drawing the King’s lips into a smile before his counterpart made a gesture towards his pet. The male gave a short laugh then turned when his thoughts decided to linger on how Kanarian was doing. He assumed he must have been terribly bored sitting idle but what he saw was not what he was expecting. 

 

The pet appeared far from bored, in fact he could hardly remain still in his seat. He was hunched over and squirming, his shoulders trembling as his breathing increased. “Faolan?” He asked, reaching over to shake the male’s shoulder gently to get his attention. He received a familiar gasping sound and was met with a heated gaze. Face flushed a deeper red as Kanarian panted heavily as if he was subject to an intense and sweltering heat. The king’s golden eyes darted towards the empty tankard at the pet’s side and he picked it up, taking a brief whiff of it and growled in disapproval. The Faun spoke firmly, addressing the new situation with concern. The King disregarded his companion’s worries and started to help his pet to his feet. “Come on Faolan, stand up. We’re leaving.”

 

Kanarian nodded weakly, moving to his feet and nearly stumbling over the legs of his chair. The King wrapped his arm firmly around his pet’s waist as he escorted him out of the tavern, leaving a momentary phrase of parting with the Faun. He waved the pair off and remained to sip at the rest of his drink. 

 

The walk through the crowd felt far longer and more exhausting for the cannibal as his legs struggled to keep him upright. The King murmured words of encouragement in his ear along the way until they finally reached another building. This one was three stories and much like the last, it had a hoard of people on the first floor, sitting around at tables in idle chatter. The front desk was manned by a short stocky fellow with fiery red hair and a long red scruffy beard. His eyes were as black as ebony and his teeth were bared in a sharp needle like grin. The King gave a short greeting, placing a small fee of golden coins on the counter surface to purchase a room above. He received a key with the number etched upon it and made the long trek up the stairs with his pet. They were on the third floor, the room furthest down the hall and away from other occupied rooms. 

 

It took very little time for them to enter and lock the door. The King lugged Kanarian over to the bed where he let him collapse upon the mattress. It was a bit harder then he was used to and the bed was smaller but it was a relief nonetheless to be able to rest. The King moved to the window and closed the curtains, double checking the lock on the door then moved a chair from nearby to prop beneath the knob just encase. He removed his cloak, setting it over the small writing table nearby and kicking his boots off before approaching his pet to help him remove the thicker layers of clothing to relieve some of the heat he was feeling. 

 

Kanarian was drenched in sweat by time he was freed from the confines of the garments, his strength was lacking as he tried to clutch to the King’s shoulder for some form of support. His silver eyes were panicked and fearful as the heat remained relentless in it’s advances throughout his body. The King noticed this and cupped his pet’s cheeks gently. For the first time all day, his words were kind and gentle. Meant with the utmost sincerity. “Faolan, just relax. Nothing bad will happen to you, I promise.” He spoke in a honeyed tone, pressing their foreheads together to get a read on his pet’s temperature. He sighed, realizing it wasn’t going to go away any time soon if they attempt to wait it out and he couldn’t afford to stay here for long lest his identity be discovered. 

 

“Faolan, listen closely.” He commanded, gaining Kanarian’s complete attention. “You were given a drink that resembles a love potion. To my people, it increases our desires for one another and provides a boost when we make love. When ingested by humans, the effects are multiplied. It becomes like a drug that cannot be quelled unless burned out of your system.” he explained as simply as he possibly could. He mourned the state his pet was in since it was partly his own fault for not warning him away from accepting drinks from strangers. His own concerns led to the neglect of his pet. 

 

He sighed and removed the last of the clothing on Kanarian, before leaning back to remove his own tunic and trousers. He knew this was going to be a very involved process if he wanted Kanarian to be functional again and there was no point in soiling their clothing over it. The dim lighting of the room was shed brighter as the King’s chest was exposed, allowing the endless viewing of the moonlight shining from within. The inky black lines glowing against the starch white skin and making creeping smiles out of scars. Kanarian’s own scarred for harbored the shadows in every dip and hollow in his form. The rapid rise and fall of his chest as droplets of sweat trickled down his neck, his raven locks falling free from the braid and plastered to his skin. Golden eyes roamed over the pet with a deep hunger rivaled only by the craving of the cannibal’s curse. “This was not how I hoped our first time would come about.” He murmured, gently caressing the slight bruising of his pet’s cheek. “It’s so sudden and you are far from prepared my little wolf. I do hope you can forgive after all of this.”

 

“Master…” The King’s lips parted to speak but froze at the words from his pet. His golden orbs fixed on the clouded silvery puddles, pooled with blue rising with the tears of desperation. Kanarian’s voice was breathy as he writhed on the bed, clutching between the fabric of the blanket beneath him and his master’s arm. His grasp remained weak, fingers curled and grappling with everything they had. “It hurts….please-” He whimpered softly. “Help me..”

 

“Of course Faolan.” His lips curled into a small smile as he reached down to gather his pet up into his arms, pulling him closer to his chest as their lips met, gentle at first before the desperation of the smaller male overcame whatever attempts at subtly. They parted their lips, slotting them as tongues tangled and intermingled. The sweet fruity flavor was still dominating Kanarian’s taste buds, something the King didn’t personally find pleasant but in the moment, it was the best that’s ever graced his lips. He situated his body, one hand sliding down Kanarian’s back over the fresh scars from their first meeting until they rested on his lower back. Kanarian arched forward, grinding his hard heated flesh against the King’s thigh, giving a soft groan in the process. His hips shuddered as the King laid him back onto the bed and met his pace, grinding his own shaft, heavy and hard with arousal, against the weeping member between them. 

 

It didn’t take long for the motions to drive Kanarian over into an orgasm, with his skin so sensitive and easily set off. His virginity helped with the fact, his body untested by the heated passions of another lover. The King’s lips curled into a smirk as he nibbled on his pet’s ear, grazing his teeth over it and drawing soft whines and mewls from trembling needy lips. Yet the male continued to hold back the loudest of his sounds, biting them back before they had the opportunity to leave his tongue. It was a shame really, since they really did need to remain quiet lest they attract too much attention. Even here in this place, it was frowned upon to be doing these sorts of activities in public spaces. 

 

“Good boy. Hold on a bit longer little wolf.” The King murmured, pressing his lips against his pet’s capturing his mouth to claim once more, swallowing his sounds before they could reach the open air. His fingers collected the seed from his pet’s release and used it to rub slow massaging circles over the tight ring of muscle. There was very little work to be done in that area with the drink relaxing his body considerably. It wasn’t long before he was able to easily press a finger inside and perform short measured thrusts within. He tilted his head to consume the whimpers and little cries that rose in his pet’s throat, finding they sound just as cute, even if they couldn’t be heard outright. “When we get home, I’m going to make you howl for me.” He murmured against Kanarian’s lips as he prodded a second slick finger against the entrance, wiggling it in and giving short thrusts again as he stretched the ring of muscle around his long slender digits. 

 

He leaned down and mouthed at his pet’s neck, suckling along it and giving gentle nips and bites as he trailed down to his little rose buds, already perked and swollen. He took them in his mouth and lucked at them with his teeth, tugging and rolling them between before issuing a curt bite that had the male tightening up around his fingers. The King chuckled in amusement as Kanarian did a wonderful job of silencing himself, gritting his teeth with head back and eyes fluttered shut. His chest rising and falling quickly in great huffs. The King waited until his pet relaxed around him once more then continued his thrusting motions before adding the third and final digit. He wanted to tend to his pet as quickly as possible and the longer this went on, the higher their chances of being discovered. 

 

A few easy thrusts of his fingers, stretching and curling inside before he withdrew them and replaced the digits with his own aching heat. “Hold your voice in Faolan.” He warned, giving him a moment to settled before pressing the tip against his twitching entrance. A groan left the King’s chest as he gritted his teeth and slowly eased his way into his pet. It wasn’t much, taking his time to push deeper inside until he was up to the hilt. He wasn’t expecting the male to release once more, his insides tightening up and nearly pushing the King over the edge. He curled his fingers into the bedding and took long easy breathes as his pet trembled and twitched around him. “Relax Faolan. I cannot move unless you relax.” He informed, drawing the sweat dampened locks out of his pet’s face. He sighed and took Kanarian’s arms to draw them around his neck then shifted his legs so they were snug around his waist. Placing his hands on the cannibal’s back and head, he pulled him up into his lap so they were both upright. The weight of his pet was bearing down on his shaft, sinking him a little bit deeper than before. 

 

Kanarian gasped, wrapping his arms around his master tighter as buried his face into the crook of the King’s shoulder. He whimpered, rocking his hips slowly with want, urging the King to start moving. He happily obliged, giving a test thrust up inside his pet, drawing a moan out of himself as the cannibal reacted by sinking his sharp teeth into the King’s shoulder, digging deep into the flesh. The King hissed, feeling his member twitch, very nearly putting himself over the edge. “Warn me next time you do that.” He grunted, petting the back of Kanarian’s head in careful strokes, burrowing his fingers into his hair in affectionate motions before he moved his hands back to grope his pet’s rear. 

 

He rocked back with his hips before continuing to thrust up inside the male. Every movement had low growls and groans, muffled by the mouthful of flesh and the sweet black blood dripping past his lips and staining the pale flesh beneath. The dark inky cluster around the King’s heart throbbed and the core of light inside his chest rang out with it, pulsating in a synchronized thrum. A few more measured thrusts and he had reached his limits, his grip tightened on his pet as his seed spilled over inside him driving the cannibal into another release with a stifled cry and a bite that as near bone breaking. The King gave a mirthless laugh when he realized his pet was still hard and rearing to go. A deep sigh left his chest as he fixed their position back to before, with Kanarian lying back on the bed but still holding onto him tightly. With a little more leverage, his hips were able to deliver more punishing and body rocking thrusts.

 

This activity continued until his pet was shooting blanks and he himself was on the verge of total collapse. His body littered in bite marks from Kanarian trying to stifle his sounds, lips and tongue stained black with his blood. Even the bedding and their bodies were a mix match of Kanarian’s white seed, the King’s pink tinted release and the black blood oozing from his shoulders and neck. What wasn’t stained was soaked in the combined sweat between their weary forms. The cannibal was lying against his chest, boneless and out of it, barely conscious from the exertion as the King pulled out and tucked his pet up closer, his arms wrapped firmly around his torso in a protective embrace. 

 

His lips pressing gentle kisses across his temple and forehead as he carded his fingers through the male’s hair. “You were a very good boy Faolan.” He murmured into his pet’s hair, feeling the body shift to a dead weight, the steady rise and fall of slow breathes came. His heated skin had cooled and the desires within were finally sated. His golden eyes admired the relaxed expression on his face, taking the time to savor these brief breaks between his duties. Something he had been neglecting to do for so long. It was only when his responsibilities over his pet came that he became aware of his own presence, or lack thereof. He was thankful for these moments. For Kanarian’s coming to his realm, though the reminder of his past was unwanted and ignited his fury on the first day of  their meeting, he couldn’t help but feel that their curses were connected and that a higher force, more so then the Goddess, was playing a hand in their paths. He could only wonder what  _ She _ would think of this new development. 


	5. Deeper Bonds

_‘You’ve really outdone yourself this time your Majesty.’_ A voice whispered into the King’s ear, dark and chilling like a November wind. He was undeterred by its presence, continuing his work as he addressed the new documents laid out before him. The same which his dearest friend had delivered. They had returned to the palace first thing the next morning. Kanarian was taken into the care of his attendant as he was bathed and dressed, fed a good hearty meal to soothe any underlying upsets the night prior may have caused and left to sleep to his heart’s content. It gave the King plenty of time alone within his personal archives to think though the continuous whispers from beyond were something he could go without.

 

 _‘What will become of your little wolf now?’_ The whispers stirred, cold reminders of his past that he wanted no part of. Phantom wisps gliding around him, a sentient fog of memories and emotions long since felt. _‘Will he be sent to the market to join the others? Another dog left to rot in a cage. Another voice crying out to be saved. Another broken spirit drenched in the chains of his masters-’_

 

“Silence!” The cold tone was an icy snarl, the loud thud of his curled fist racking the surface, nearly spilling his inkwell. His golden eyes, set back into the darkness like campfires, abandoned and left to rage and grow, snapping at the foliage surrounding, to spread and destroy. His jaw was tight, clenched in strain as he struggled to regain his composure. “I want nothing of your whispers fouling my presence. Begone with you!” He growled, his eyes fixed on the rolling fog. The sound of clicking on a tongue and the whispers fled, curling around a dusty old crystal resting on a shelf above his work space, fleeing within and leaving the King to his solitude.

  
  
  


The day continued with the quiet of the evening. The attendant delivered the meals to Kanarian as per usual, sitting in to ensure he is partaking of them and leaving when satisfied. Amidst the second tray of the day, the King had sent a request for a special delivery beside it. A hunk of wood, broken from a branch amidst the storms of summer’s end. It was a pleasant surprise for Kanarian who sat up with delight and fumbled with it between his fingers, already anticipating what delicate figures could come from it. He deliberated about this over his meal and once permitted by the attendant to roam and stretch his legs, he was eager to begin working on it. Wandering about the palace with knife in hand and blade teasing at each piece, forming it into the desired outcome. A small pouch was hanging from his sash, a place to collect his shavings so as not to create a bigger mess for the servants.

 

He would wander a hall for a bit, find a random spot and seat himself on the floor, working away at delicate details during moments of extreme concentration. Then would rise and start to pace and roam a bit longer until the next place that was appealing to work away at. This lasted three hours and he was able to create two separate pieces that when put together would make much more sense. The carving was a totem that had split in half on accident as the center of the wood was weakened but Kanarian used it to his advantage. The pieces were of a butterfly, when separate they appeared to have their wings closed, with a pattern on both sides. When pushed together, they would form a much larger butterfly with an extraordinary pattern with wings spread in gorgeous display. He left these little pieces around the palace. One in the Throne room, sitting atop the King’s seat and the other was left in the meeting room where the King tends to his generals and confidants.

 

He continued to roam about the palace in idle thought, staring up in awe at the endless halls of white stone work and delicate runes and patterns carved into the thresholds of white birch arches. His mind wondering what it was that was beyond those enchanted doorways, what secrets remained lurking like serpents on the edges of the world. What truths may be shrouded in shadows. Much like the heart of the King with the inky black cluster beseeching his crystal beauty. His thoughts reflecting back to the night before. The whispered promises, the tender caress. The King’s lips on his, sharing the sweetness of the drink as tongues mingled and played. Lips locked in ways that prevented breath from escaping and made his heart roll like the deepest thunder clouds had taken residence within. Every touch was electric, every guided hand and reassurance. He felt his cheeks rising with an intense heat, the pallor exchanging for a reddish tint that stretched up to the tips of his ears and down his neck a bit. It was troublesome to say the least but he was grateful he was alone.

 

“Faolan?” Or so he thought. The colder tone echoed down the hallway, the golden eyes leveling on him from behind, a gaze that Kanarian couldn’t mistake in all his life.

 

He felt the heat surge within, his chest revived with the rapid thunder of his heart as he dared to turn and greet his master with the submissive bow of his head. The long raven locks were free flowing today, lacking the energy or desire to put it up into its normal braid. It created a curtain of protection from the intuitive gaze that soon approached. “Yes Master?” He greeted in a polite and respectful tone, soft and barely making it off of his tongue before long slender fingers reached out to hook beneath his chin, catching it gently and drawing his face up to meet the King’s.

 

“Something wrong Faolan?” The King inquired with concern towards the unusual flush of the male’s face. He leaned closer causing Kanarian to close his eyes in anticipation but received only the briefest press of their foreheads together. “You’re warm, pet. Are you ill?” The slender fingers moved to caress the side of his cheek, rubbing his thumb across his cheekbone and sliding it back and forth.

 

“I’m okay sir. There is no need to worry.” Kanarian spoke softly, holding still with the close proximity between them, his breath resting inside his chest until it started to burn. He forced himself to speak, to remain calm but he could swear the King may be able to hear his heart thumping away at his rib cage. “Did you need me sir?”

 

The King’s gaze never wavered from his pet as he considered on the honesty of his words. He decided it would be best to keep an eye on him still, not knowing if the substances his human consumed may still be lingering in his body, influencing his actions and functions to cause this strange heat. “I have something I wish to discuss. Come, we can speak more privately in my chambers.” He gestured, moving his hand from his pet’s cheek to draw the chain from the collar, curling it lazily around his fingers. Taking a step forward, it was the silent direction to follow.

 

Kanarian obeyed, falling into step behind the king as they returned to the chambers. A pair of guards stood watch outside the birch archway to ensure none would enter and disturb their conversation. Kanarian had already assumed his position at the edge of the bed, awaiting the King to join him. He seemed hesitant at first before conceding and resting on the edge of the bed. His long slender fingers reached out to stroke Kanarian’s raven locks, curling them between his fingertips thoughtfully. The gesture drew Kanarian’s head to rest against the King’s clothed thigh, the dark garments were soft beneath his cheek as the petting motion continued for a few minutes. It allowed the King to prepare what it was he wanted to discuss.

 

The pause continued for sometime before the King finally spoke, breaking the silence and stirring Kanarian from his dazed state. The fingers combing through his hair spurring him into a pleasant haze that lulled him into a docile state. “Faolan, I wish to tell you something important. It can only be kept between the two of us, understand?”

 

Kanarian tilted his head up so silver orbs met the serious golden hues of his master. The fingers fell away from his hair and rested in his lap. “Yes master.”

 

“Names have immense power here, Faolan.” He stressed that fact so the young wolf would understand. He was met with another nod of affirmation. “Your true name gave me the power to keep you by my side.” His fingers reached out to trail over his warm skin, cupping his chin, thumb stroking over his cheekbone. Kanarian tilted into the touch, his silver-blue orbs closing with a soft sigh at the sensation. “Sharing mine with you, will bridge a bond that not even your goddess can sever, with all her magic and scorn.” He murmured.

 

His fingers coaxed Kanarian’s head back up so their gazes met, ensuring the cannibal was paying attention. “Faolan, my true name is Conarch of the Unseelie Court. A name that not even my subjects know.” He explained. “Say it Faolan. I need you to speak my name.”

 

Kanarian nodded, his lips pursed briefly in thought before they formed the foreign name. “Conarch of the Unseelie Court. My master.” He murmured, as the hand caressed the side of his face. The faint moonlight glow that resonated inside the King’s chest grew brighter, shining through the dark fabric of his garments and casting silvery shadows around the room. The golden orbs burned like embers within, gazing down at his pet with a swell of pride and fondness. His touch was cold against his skin, a brief tingling sensation that spread across into Kanarian’s body, stretching dark inky webs from the contact to coil beneath his sunkissed flesh. The markings outlined his veins, bulging beneath his skin, a wave of nausea washed over him, the silver coloring in the cannibal’s eyes receded to a pale crescent on the edges of the blue pools. It lasted only a few minutes before the darkness faded with the bright light and Kanarian slumped into his master’s touch. His head hanging against his palm.

  


“Good boy, Faolan. Very good boy.” Kanarian felt the world shift around him, a fuzzy haze that teetered back and forth with slow rising motions before the swell caused him to sink back down. Fingers already combing through his long raven locks in slow stroking motions. “It’ll pass in a few minutes. Just hang on.” He reassured, lowering his head to press his lips against his pet’s forehead. It was a gentle touch, barely a brush but the warmth was present, thawing the frigid chill that had struck the cannibal, letting it fall away from his limbs and freeing him from the cold grip.

 

“Master?” Kanarian mumbled into his touch, lips parted slowly, feeling his energy lagging.

 

The King hushed him with soft sounds, pulling the cannibal up into his lap so his body sagged against his chest. He wrapped one arm around his waist and the other snaked around behind his upper back, fingers combing through the long flowing ebony locks, drawing them out of the cannibal’s face as he situated them on the bed, laying back partially propped up by the cushions. A soft silvery light pulsed in his chest, a steady beat with his heart as he relished the new stronger bond with his pet.


End file.
